


The Prey

by Antoinette95



Series: Fear No Evil [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anal Sex, Angst, Comedy, Detective Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), F/M, Flashbacks, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Protective Levi (Shingeki no Kyojin), Romance, Serial Killers, Slow Build, Torture, Tragedy, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-05-05
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:10:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3569165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Antoinette95/pseuds/Antoinette95
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Levi Ackerman the choice had been simple: run. And to his credit, he did for four years. But the past is never easily forgotten or shuttered away. Demons fester in its depths, hungering for the moment despair consumes the soul. That reality comes for him in the form of a madman with an unknown agenda and a penchant for murder. Before long the city is drawn helplessly into a monster's unrelenting, bloody grip; and when an innocent boy Levi never meant to care for is dragged into the middle of it, he has no choice but to confront the very thing that had tormented him for years. <br/>  The only thing you have to fear, is fear itself....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prolouge

**Author's Note:**

> ALL THANKS AND KUDOS TO MY AMAZING BETA xxDeja_Uchihaxx! I love her so much and suggest you guys read her stories too! :)
> 
> Hi guys! So this story has finally gotten the re-vamp I've been talking about for months. And it's a part of a trilogy now! So I hope you enjoy what I have in store for you all. BTW, some of the early chapters are the same, but trust me, that won't last long. :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HI EVERYONE! OKAY, SO THIS IS OFFICIALLY THE FIRST UPDATE OF THE REWRITE! YES, IT IS SMALL, BUT BE ASSURED THAT EVERY CHAPTER AFTER THIS WILL BE LENGTHY, ANYWHERE BETWEEN 4K AND 8K WORDS EACH. OBVIOUSLY THINGS WILL BE SLOW, BUT NOT TOO SLOW, SO PLEASE BARE WITH ME! THANK YOU ALL FOR YOUR PATIENCE, AND I REALLY HOPE YOU LIKE SOME OF THE CHANGES I MAKE THROUGHOUT THE STORY!

**_ January 12, 2010 _ **

     “Damn it all. Why the fuck is it so cold?” Levi growled. He rubbed his gloved hands together, willing his fingers to unfreeze. The icy air whipped at his face, stinging his cheeks and nose. His breath came in sharp, burning puffs before his eyes. His muscles were stiff and aching from kneeling in the snow for so long. Had he had his way, he would have been in one of the warm vehicles hidden half a block away, but as it was, he was stuck on a rooftop on what was possibly the coldest night of the year.

   The snow and ice crunched loudly, and seconds later Farlan kneeled beside him. The other man huffed and blew onto his chilled fingers. “Scowling won’t make the targets turn up any faster you know.” The man grinned crookedly at Levi’s hard glare. It wasn’t easy to rile the shorter male up, and he took pride that he was one of few that could get away with it.

   “Did you actually need something, or were you _trying_ to get thrown off the roof?” the raven haired man bit out harshly. He rubbed his hands together somewhat angrily, and glared down at the darkness below. He really did hate the cold. It tended to bring out the worst in him.

    Farlan’s smile fell slightly, and his blue-gray eyes darkened. “Actually,” he whispered, bending close until his cheek was only a hairsbreadth away from Levi’s, “I was wondering if you’d heard from Isabel.”

   Levi shook his head and tapped his mike. “Communication has to stay limited until it’s time to move, just in case we’ve been compromised.” He clenched his hands together tightly. “Last I heard, their teams were in position and waiting.”

    The other man furrowed his brows, mouth drawn in a grim line. “And how long ago was that?”

    He didn’t answer immediately. Farlan was on edge, and understandably so, but Levi was not going to give him a reason to lose his head. “A while ago.” Levi said finally, burrowing his hands as deep into his pockets as possible.

   The truth was that the radio had been frustratingly silent for the last hour and a half. Every now and again the blasted thing would crackle as if a transmission were coming through, before falling disturbingly quiet yet again. What was more, even if there was a steady stream of communication, Levi couldn’t just ask specifically about Isabel. He hadn’t been happy in the slightest when she’d been separated from both he and Farlan, not because he doubted her ability to take care of herself, but because it was a tactical move designed by the higher ups to keep the two men in line. Asking about her would only make things worse.

  Farlan growled softly under his breath. “In other words, you don’t know if she’s in trouble or not.” He clenched his fists tightly. “We need to pull out. I’m sure Michael would-”

   Levi shot him a hard, warning glare, cutting him off. _Not now,_ he mouthed. He pressed his lips together in a thin line and inclined his head to the men huddled together a few yards away. They whispered amongst themselves, heads bent close together. A few glanced in their direction distrustfully before sneering and averting their gazes. The members of the San Diego Special Task Force were proud, territorial bastards, who thought themselves too good for outside help, especially a team of private investigators who specialized in espionage and interrogation tactics. Their approval didn’t matter so much, but he didn’t need them overhearing and reporting anything that could put Isabel in danger.

   The other man furrowed his brows, looking like he wanted to argue the matter further. Levi’s scowl deepened, his steel gray eyes glinting threateningly. Frustration flashed in his eyes and his jaw clenched, and after a minute of fuming he nodded stiffly and stared at the pier below. Satisfied that his partner would behave for the time being, the shorter male pushed to his feet and stretched his arms above his head. He bit back a small groan as his muscles popped after hours of disuse.

    Levi stuffed his hands into his pocket and closed his fingers around the little cross Isabel had insisted he carry with him. He didn’t believe in God, or rather he was indifferent and undecided on that front, but he felt better having it with him. He traced the pad of his thumb over the cool metal, wishing, not for the first time, that he had an ounce of faith in him. Maybe then he wouldn’t feel guilty about praying that Farlan and Isabel got through this okay.

The radio crackled and a moment later Keith Shadis’, their commander, voice growled in Levi’s ear. ** _“Vehicles approaching from the South. Alpha team, be ready to move in on my signal.”_**   

   _It’s about fucking time._ Levi thought bitterly. He cleared his throat and faced the half dozen men assigned to his team. They watched him silently, faces grim and determined for the task ahead. Their task was supposed to be simple: get as many of the boys out of their as they could before things got nasty. In reality, Levi knew it would be anything but easy. The boys trapped inside the warehouse were waiting to be shipped to the highest seller, and most if not all, had been brainwashed and drugged since their kidnappings. They wouldn’t go quietly or without struggle for fear of punishment from their captors. Some had probably attempted to escape before and had either been killed, or maimed and beaten within an inch of their life. Getting the boys to safety while trying to avoid a fight was asking for nothing short of a miracle, especially knowing what he knew.

    “Alright, you have your orders, and you know what to do. Remember, our object is to get as many captives out of there as possible while Alpha and Beta do their work. Do not engage the enemy unless necessary. If you do encounter them however, you shoot to kill. Got it?”

    The men nodded sternly and gathered their weapons. Levi turned to Farlan and gestured for him to step away from the group. The taller man followed without question, turning his collar up against the bitter cold. Levi walked until they were out of earshot, but still within eyesight of the other men. He and Farlan stood toe to toe, faces inches apart.

    Farlan stared down at the raven haired man. “What is it?” he asked, chancing a glance at the men behind him.

   “We don’t have much time so listen carefully.” Levi whispered voice barely audible over the shrill shriek of the wind. “The other day I met with Erwin, one of the other squad leaders, and he told me-”

   “Wait you met with Erwin Smith?” Farlan interrupted. He narrowed his eyes. “When was this? And why didn’t you tell us?” It was not a secret that Levi detested Erwin Smith, or rather, he used to. Farlan could still remember that night, almost a year ago, when Smith had bullied his way into the investigation and almost compromised one of their covert operations. They'd survived, but the raven haired man had held onto quite the grudge against the blonde man. Or so Farlan had believed. Clearly, the two were on friendlier terms if Levi was using his first name. For the life of him, Farlan couldn't figure out why that upset him. 

   Levi waved him off impatiently. “That isn’t important right now!” he snapped. “Erwin thinks that we have a mole, so we may very well be walking into a trap. If anything goes wrong, you need to find Isabel and get her out of there.”

   The taller man’s eyes flashed and he grabbed Levi’s forearm tightly in his fist. “So you mean to tell me, that you _knew_ that this could be a trap and you let Isabel go in there?” His voice trembled with fury. “You could have fucking told us. You _should_ have told us!”

    “Erwin wasn’t sure, but he had a hunch alright? Besides, it wasn't as if he knew who it was, and pulling out could have tipped the traitor off. He asked me to keep it quiet just in case…” Levi faltered and looked away, but the damage had already been done. He couldn’t take it back.

   Farlan chuckled darkly and ran a hand through his hair. “Oh I see. Erwin suspected one of us didn’t he?” His eyes bore into Levi’s face, tracing over the deep frown and dark circles beneath his eyes. “Didn’t he?” he pressed angrily.

    Levi exhaled deeply and looked back at him impassively. “Erwin suspected _you,_ not Isabel.” He swallowed a lump in his throat, remembering the warring emotions he’d felt when Erwin had first suggested the treachery. He hadn’t wanted to believe it, had punched the stupid blonde in his jaw, but after being shown the evidence it had left him weighted with doubt. Still, saying it aloud, that he couldn’t trust his best friend, hurt more than Levi had ever imagined.

   **_“Targets have been confirmed. Six armed guards, twelve unknowns. Charlie, move in.”_** Shadis’ voice cut through Levi’s muddled mind, snapping him out of his reverie. Farlan was still staring at him, his expression unreadable. Tension rolled from him, and the man looked as if he were seconds away from slamming his fist between Levi’s eyes. He wouldn't blame him, and he probably wouldn't stop him either.

   Levi reached up without breaking eye contact and pressed his comm. “Roger.” His voice was soft and stiff, but if the commander found that odd, he didn’t comment. He dropped his hand uselessly to his side, feeling the divide widening between him and a man he’d called his friend for almost a decade.

   “Well then,” Farlan croaked, “I suppose we should go. After you, Squad Leader Ackerman.”

 

  

   

  

****

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE NEXT CHAPTER WILL BE UPDATED AND POSTED NOVEMBER 4! HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOYED, AND AGAIN, I HOPE YOU'LL LIKE THE UPCOMING CHAPTERS.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ONCE AGAIN, ALL THANKS TO MY AMAZING BETA xxDeja_Uchihaxx. I COULDN'T HAVE DONE THIS WITHOUT YOU! :)  
> AND THANKS TO EVERYONE THAT HAS READ, COMMENTED, AND BOOKMARKED MY STORY. I'M SO GLAD YOU GUYS ENJOY MY WORK!

   
   Time dragged along sluggishly, the monotonous _tick, tick, tick_ of the clock grating on Eren’s already frayed nerves. A quick glance at the clock told him that it was only a quarter past ten, meaning he’d have to suffer for at least another twenty minutes before he could escape. He wasn’t even sure what the lesson was supposed to be about, but then again, he was never sure. It wasn’t that he was a bad student or anything. History was just one of those subjects that failed to interest him in any way, shape, or form. It certainly didn’t help that he had a teacher that knew just about as much as _he_ did about history. Therefore, when the teacher rolled out the projector and turned on some lame movie, he’d immediately settled down into his seat and stared longingly out the window.   
    It was mid-September, just around the time where Summer breathed its last quivering breath and Autumn was beginning to awaken. It was still uncomfortably hot most days, but the early mornings and late nights were bestowed with a welcoming, crisp breeze. If he had things his way, he’d be out on the field helping the soccer team tryouts. Hell, he’d babysit the freshman gym class if they’d let him; it didn’t matter. He loved being outside, feeling the warm sun on his skin. He hated being enclosed or trapped anywhere, be it at school or at home. Freedom was all he was looking forward to after high school. There were too many walls, too many rules, too many people, too many-   
“Eren, pay attention!” Mikasa hissed, poking him sharply in the shoulder with her pencil. “Why are you staring out the window? What’s so interesting out there anyway?” 

   Eren rubbed his shoulder indignantly and glared at her. “We’re watching a movie Mikasa. It’s not like I have to watch it right now.”   
     Her frown deepened. “It’s a documentary and we’re having a test on it Friday,” she deadpanned.    
“Your point being what exactly?” he sighed, resting his chin on his fist. He stared blankly ahead, doing his best to ignore Mikasa’s heated stare.   
“My point,” she whispered tightly, “is that Armin and I always have to bust our asses to help you pass because you never study or pay attention in class. It would make our job a little easier if you at least tried.” She huffed at his silence and leaned over until her breath ghosted over his arm. “Seriously Eren, the semester hasn’t even gotten hard yet! What are you going to do when-”   
  Eren cut her off abruptly, his patience snapping. “Oh my goodness Mikasa! I’ll watch the stupid movie if that’ll make you leave me alone!” He hadn’t realized he’d yelled until he met his teacher’s stony glare. A few of his classmates were staring at him, little smirks adorning their faces. Jean Kirsten was shaking with silent laughter while Armin was shaking his head sadly. Eren sighed and sunk down in his seat, pointedly ignoring Mikasa who had the decency to look guilty.   
_Guess I’ll be in detention…again_ , he thought grimly. He could just imagine his father’s disappointed face when he got home. Lately he’d been feeling more like a disappointment to the man, despite his best efforts. If he wasn’t in detention for fighting with Jean, he was getting average, piss poor grades in almost every subject. His temper hadn’t improved much either, despite his father dragging him to therapy every other week. His teachers always said that his father had the patience of a saint, and as time progressed, Eren could only reluctantly agree.   
    It wasn’t as if Eren didn’t _try_ to be a good son. He’d taken it upon himself to learn to cook and clean, to take on his mother’s role as best as possible. His father had been a reclusive wreck after Eren’s mother died. The man often found solace in the bottom of a bottle the first two years after her death. Eren distinctly remembered the nights the man came home reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot and hollow. Grisha had never raised a hand to him, never so much as raised his voice, but he’d been distant, and in truth that hurt more than anything else. Some people surmised that his rebellious attitude was a product of the neglect, but Eren didn’t think so. It had hurt, and he had been lonely, but he couldn’t resent his father. 

    Someone tapped him lightly on the shoulder, pulling him yet again out of his thoughts. He looked over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow quizzically. Christa offered him a meek smile, a flush dusting her cheeks. Christa was the sweetest person in his circle of friends. She was quiet, polite, and brazenly honest. On top of that, there was a natural beauty about her that, in simple terms, was radiant. As irritated as he was, he couldn’t help but return the warm smile. He doubted there was a person alive that could resist one of her smiles.    
      She passed him a neatly folded note before quickly turning back to her notebook and scribbling down notes. He whispered his thanks and swiveled back in his seat when he felt his teacher’s heated glare on him.  He quietly unfolded the paper under his desk, and ran his eyes over the scribbled line twice before crumbling the paper in a tight fist. He felt the heat flushing his skin and knew his face was probably red. He heard a snicker to his left and his head immediately snapped to Jean Kirstein.   
  _Stupid horse-faced bastard_ , he thought furiously. He flipped the other teen off, and roughly stuffed the stupid note in his pocket. Eren did his best to ignore the little giggles coming from the left side of the room, but it was no easy task. He and Jean had been at each other’s throats since they were in elementary school. The rivalry started out fighting over Mikasa when the girl had moved into town. It only escalated from there when Jean admitted he had a crush on Mikasa in the fifth grade, and Eren made it his duty to keep the annoying boy away. Jean calmed down a little when Marco transferred to their school their sophomore year, but the two still found themselves fighting about mundane things. Their group unanimously agreed that the two and their juvenile antics were beyond help.   
   Mikasa raised a questioning eyebrow at him, which he pointedly ignored. The last thing he needed was for her to try and defend his honor. He loved her like sister, but she could be embarrassingly insufferable at times. When they were little kids she’d been a little more lenient, letting him do what he’d wanted when he wanted. After middle school, however, she’d always been hanging over his shoulder, guarding him and basically bossing him around. He’d admit he didn’t always think before acting, but he didn’t need the constant mothering.

   “Eren what was that?” Mikasa hissed, staring at his pocket suspiciously. “You shouldn’t be passing notes while-”

    Eren groaned low in his throat and ran a hand exaggeratedly down his face. “Jesus Christ, Mikasa will you please back off?”

    She furrowed her brows and pursed her lips. _I would like to, but unfortunately_ _you act like a complete dumbass_ _whenever Jean’s involved_ _,_ she thought. _And then you’ll come crying and moping when you get in trouble. Again._ “I’m just saying-,” she began patiently. 

      “Oh for the love of God, it’s a damn note!” he growled, earning himself yet another annoyed glare from the teacher. 

   _He really is an idiot_ _._ Mikasa sighed heavily and turned back to the movie. There were times when she _really_ detested how bullheaded and idiotic her best friend could be.

 “Geez, someone’s on the rag today,” Jean faux whispered to a red faced Armin.   
“What was that you horse-faced bastard?!” Eren demanded, jumping to his feet. His chair fell over in the process, thudding heavily to the floor.

 “You got a problem Jaeger?!” the other teen snapped, standing abruptly, and knocking Armin’s notebook to the ground.    
“Mr. Jaeger! Mr. Kirsten! I have had it with the two of you! Detention today and tomorrow!”

* * *

 

“You shouldn’t mope Eren, you did this to yourself.” Armin said, picking up a fry and popping it in his mouth.   
  Eren grunted, his bottom lip pouting as he picked at his food. Rationally he knew Armin was right, but he didn’t want to be rational. He wanted to be upset and angry a little bit. It was all Jean’s fault that he was stuck in detention for two days anyway.   
  “Well I didn’t do anything!” Jean complained, slamming his fork on the table. “Jaeger just had to act like a little bitch and-”   
“I wouldn’t have had to get upset if a certain asshole hadn’t-”   
  “Who do you think you’re raising your voice at Jaeger?!?”   
  “You want to take this outside Kirsten?!?”   
  Armin groaned and turned to Sasha and Connie, ignoring his two bickering friends. Hopefully they’d wear themselves out before he got a headache. Sasha offered him a bright smile, her cheeks stuffed with food. He couldn’t hold back his laughter at the brunette. She was the most eccentric person he knew, and the most gluttonous. Seriously, it was astonishing how skinny the girl was with how much food she ate. Right now, she was vainly trying to steal a piece of Connie’s sandwich.    
“Hey Armin, looks like you got your hands full huh?” Connie smirked indicating the bickering teens. He expertly slapped Sasha’s hand away and pointedly took a bite of his sandwich.   
  The girl pouted and rubbed the back of her hand pitifully. “What are they arguing about now?”   
  Armin looked over at the two boys. They’d quieted down considerably, and now were glowering at each other over their food. He turned back to Connie and shook his head sadly. “Honestly at this point I think it best to just ignore them. Eren doesn’t listen to me anyway.”   
  They chuckled and nodded their agreement. Eventually Connie gave in and handed Sasha what was left of his food. She gleefully squealed, kissed him on the cheek, and proceeded to stuff the food in her mouth. Armin finished the rest of his fries just as Marco plopped down next to him, ruffling his hair.

   “Hey guys,” he said, setting his bag on the ground beside him.    
  Jean immediately snapped his mouth closed when he noticed the boy next to him. Eren exchanged a conspiratorial smirk with Armin, both thoroughly enjoying watching Jean’s cheeks flush when Marco leaned against him gently. It was hardly a secret to anyone, maybe except Marco himself, that Jean had a crush the size of Texas. He didn’t outright admit it, but someone only had to look to be able to tell. There were things that Jean would only do for Marco, and he was meeker whenever the boy was around.   
“Hey Jean. I heard about you getting detention with Eren again. Tough break, huh?” Marco said, bumping his shoulder lightly.   
  Jean shrugged nonchalantly. “Yeah, I guess I let my temper get the best of me again,” he admonished sheepishly.  He threw Eren a dirty look over his drink. Eren lazily flipped him off.   
  Marco chuckled lightly and bit into his pizza. “That’s too bad. I was going to invite you over tonight to watch movies and hang out.”   
  Armin had never seen a person spontaneously combust before, but Jean was certainly giving it his best shot. His face went from red, to purple, to white in less than ten seconds while he processed what Marco had said. As far as Armin knew, they had always gone to either Jean’s house or the library to hang out; this was the first time Marco had ever invited him over to his house.   
  Jean recovered quickly and took a large gulp of his drink. “W-well we still could if you’d be willing to wait a little while. I shouldn’t be too long.”   
   Marco’s face split into a radiant smile. “You already know I’d wait for you Jean. I’ve waited this long haven’t I?”                          

   Jean spit his drink in Eren’s face, (purely on accident), prompting yet another argument that Marco quickly squashed.   
   Lunch continued relatively calmly after that. Mikasa finally joined them and proceeded to lecture Eren until he looked thoroughly chastised. The word “dumbass” was thrown around quite a bit, and everyone watched amusedly as Eren reluctantly apologized. Sasha conned everyone out of some portion of their food, while Connie apologized for her antics. Marco and Jean were whispering now, their heads bent close together. Judging by the pout on his face, Jean was receiving a lecture of his own.    
  Armin glanced down at his watch and cursed softly under his breath. He hastily gathered his trash and pushed his chair back. Eren looked curiously up at him as he stood. “Where are you going? We’ve got at least ten more minutes before the bell.”   
  “I needed to print something at the library before class. Save me a seat, right?” he asked, slinging his bag over his shoulder.    
  Eren nodded before turning to Marco to him about an assignment he apparently neglected to do again. Shaking his head, Armin stuffed his headphones into his ears and started skirting around the cafeteria to the trashcan. No sooner had he dumped his tray, when something, or someone, slammed roughly into his shoulder. He felt himself tumbling forward, and without thinking he threw his hands out in front of him. He couldn’t hold back a sharp cry when he felt his right wrist twist underneath him.   
  “What the Hell was that about Reiner?” Eren was on his feet and stalking towards the tall senior before anyone could stop him. Chairs scraped loudly on the floor and Mikasa and Jean appeared at his elbow, with Connie just behind them.    
   Armin looked up at their approach, partly grateful that they were coming to his defense, yet wary of Reiner’s retaliation on the group. The afore mentioned senior towered over him, his muscled arms crossed over his chest, and a sneer on his face. Armin swallowed and pushed himself back to his feet, cradling his wrist to his chest.   
“It’s fine Eren, don’t make a scene.” Armin whispered when the brunette stopped in front of him.    
“Like Hell it is Armin! I’m with Jaeger on this one. That was uncalled for!” Jean said hotly. Mikasa nodded stiffly, her eyes glaring daggers at Reiner.

   Armin huffed and pushed at Eren’s shoulder, shaking his head. “I understand, but we’re in the middle of lunch and people are staring,” he said through gritted teeth. He looked around at the gaping student body, all of which looked on unabashedly. “’It’s really not worth getting suspended over.”   
  Jean looked ready to argue, but seemed to think better of it. Reiner was a senior, as well as the star offensive tackle for the football team. He was about a head taller than Jean,  and made of pure muscle, making him look much older than he was. In a fair fight, he would undoubtedly win. Armin wasn’t too eager to watch Eren or Jean get their asses kicked, especially on his behalf.

  “Guys I’m _fine_. Seriously, there’s no need to-” Armin murmured, only to have Eren cut him off angrily.   
  “You’re clearly not okay if you’re holding your wrist like that,” Eren snapped.  He lightly shoved Armin out of the way and stepped into Reiner’s space, his hands clenched into fists. “How about you try that with me?” he growled.    
   Reiner snorted and rolled his eyes. “I think you should take your friend’s advice Jaeger.”    
   Eren opened his mouth to retort when another senior, a boy named Bertolt Hoover, stepped in between the two teens and pushed them apart. “Okay, that’s enough. Reiner, take a walk,” he ordered.    
   The blonde frowned before shrugging the hand off and stalking off. Eren watched him go, a dark glint in his eyes. He itched to follow, to drive his fist into the bastard’s face repeatedly until he was thoroughly satisfied. He hated that feeling, and unfortunately Reiner knew exactly how to stir him up. 

   Bertolt sighed heavily and gave them a sheepish grin. “I’m sorry about that. Sometimes he just has bad days, you know?” He looked after his friend and shook his head. “I don’t know what’s gotten into him today, though. I’ll talk to him and tell him to back off.” Bertolt clapped Eren lightly on the shoulder before walking off to join Reiner and the other members of the team.

   Eren watched him lean over and whisper something to Reiner, which quickly devolved into an intense argument. The relationship between the two teens was strange, especially to an outsider looking in. Bertolt Hoover was Reiner’s right hand man, and arguably the only real friend the blonde bully had. It was ironic that the two got along so well, considering Bertolt was popular amongst the students, and a generally nice person. He didn’t condone Reiner’s antics, but he unapologetically defended his friend when necessary . Eren didn’t really understand the friendship, nor did he care enough to analyze it any further. He was content if Reiner left them alone.    
   Mikasa stepped up beside him and lay a warm hand on his arm. “Come on, let’s walk Armin to the nurse,” she said softly. 

    Armin frowned and huffed. “I told you I’m fine. It doesn’t even hurt anymore,” he grumbled under his breath. 

    Eren raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Oh really?” he quipped skeptically. He slung his arm over the shorter teen’s shoulders and began steering him towards the exit. “Then this will be a quick trip to the nurse’s office, won’t it?” 

  Armin groaned and allowed himself to be dragged away by his over protective best friends, knowing resistance would be futile.  

* * *

It was almost six o’clock when Eren finally got home that evening, and he was not in the best of moods by any means. Not only had he been stuck in detention with Jean, but their punishment included cleaning the erasers and chalk boards in every room in the science hall. He fully blamed the stupid horse-faced teen for the chalk in his hair and on his shirt. He’d also had the misfortune of running into Reiner again shortly after they were released. His mouth got the best of him, and had it not been for Bertolt intervening he’d have more than just a throbbing shoulder to worry about. (Getting thrown against the lockers was not what he’d call fun.)    
  Eren took one look at his father’s car in the driveway and sighed heavily. He’d hoped that he’d be able to put off the coming lecture until the following day, but fate was clearly conspiring against him. He pushed open the front door and was immediately greeted by the smell of peppers and what sounded like soft piano music. He dropped his bag in the entry way and padded softly to the kitchen doorway. Eren was more than surprised to see Grisha standing over the stove, stirring peppers and diced chicken in a pan while whistling along to the music. He wasn’t sure if he’d stepped into a parallel universe or what, because the man rarely ever cooked anymore. Grisha was either in a very good mood, or a very bad mood. Eren hoped it was the former.    
   “It’s impolite to stare Eren,” Grisha said, glancing up from his task. “I notice you just came in. What did you do to land yourself in detention this time?”   
  Eren ran a hand through his unruly brown hair and dropped his gaze. “I…got in trouble with Jean Kirsten. We kind of had an argument in the middle of class.” He could feel his father’s hard stare, but he refused to lift his eyes.   
  Grisha exhaled deeply. “I can’t say that I’m surprised you allowed that boy to get the best of you. You never were really smart when it came to choosing your battles.” The spoon clanked on the counter, prompting Eren to finally meet his father’s eyes.  The man looked more tired than angry. “I can’t stop you from making an utter fool of yourself, but that doesn’t mean I like to watch you humiliate yourself.”   
  “I’m sorry Dad.” Eren swallowed thickly, but forced himself to hold his father’s gaze. It was times like these where it really hit him how much he yearned for his father’s approval, as well as how much he feared his rejection   
Grisha shook his head and gently squeezed his shoulder. “I don’t want you to be sorry Eren. I want you to think. I’m afraid you’re going to get into serious trouble because you are too impulsive. I worry about you.”   
  The admission hung in the air. Eren held his breath, unsure how to respond. Grisha Jaeger was not an affectionate man by many standards. The few times he displayed any affection were awkward, a mixture of chastisement and appraisal. A large part of Eren thirsted for those little displays of tenderness, however. After two years of borderline neglect, he’d take anything he could get.    
  Grisha looked as if he wanted to say something more, only to be interrupted by the door bell ringing shrilly. He pulled back and went back to the food, moving it from the stove. “Can you get that Eren?” he asked, pulling plates from the cupboard.   
  Nodding, Eren ducked out of the kitchen. He’d barely turned the knob when the door was thrown open and he was greeted with a high-pitched squeal. He squawked indignantly when two arms engulfed him in a rib crushing hug. To his horror, his face was smashed between the screaming woman’s breasts, and she didn’t seem ready to let go any time soon. While most boys his age would vehemently disagree, being smothered by boobs didn’t seem like an ideal way to die.  He violently struggled in the grasp until he heard his father’s exasperated sigh. 

    “Hanji, would you please stop smothering my son?” the man asked, coming into the entry way.    
“Oh Grisha, Eren has gotten so big!” Hanji beamed, her eyes bright with mischief. She held him at arm’s length and looked him up and down. “Look at how handsome he is!”   
  “You literally gave me a ride home last week,” Eren deadpanned, stepping out of her grasp.

   Hanji grinned manically. “But so much can change in a week!” she insisted, patting his head as she swept past him into the house.

   Eren scowled at the woman. Hanji Zoe was his father’s co-worker at the San Diego Medical Examiner’s Office. She was tall, and lean with just the right muscle definition. Her chestnut brown hair was pulled back in a ponytail, her bangs hanging in her chocolate brown eyes. Saying the woman was eccentric was the understatement of the century. She was bat shit crazy as far as Eren was concerned. He’d known the woman practically all his life, as she’d babysat for him until he was eleven. He liked her a lot, namely because she got into just as much trouble as him, but she could be too much at times.   
  “I’m surprised you’re here Hanji. Eren and I were just about to have dinner.” Grisha said, pulling her into a light hug. “Would you like to join us?”   
   Eren wasn’t sure how it was anatomically possible, but her smile broadened as she clapped her hands with delight. “Sorry Grisha, but Erwin just sent out the call. We have another one, and it’s fresh! I was on my way there and figured I’d drop by.”    
  It was slightly disturbing that she was practically salivating over a dead body. His father wasn’t any better if he were being honest. That was socially weird, right? Eren was positive that wasn’t okay. Seriously, what was wrong with some of these people?   
   Grisha scowled at her disapprovingly. “Hanji, you can’t talk about these things in front of my son. We’ve discussed this.”   
  She threw her head back and laughed heartily. “Eren’s a big boy Grisha! Relax, I’m not talking about any specific details or anything.”   
  “That’s not the point Hanji,” he replied patiently.  “I prefer to keep my work away from my son given…things.” That sobered Hanji’s mood. Eren felt his chest tighten slightly, but he remained silent. They didn’t need reminder of the circumstances surrounding Carla Jaeger’s murder, or that Eren had witnessed it. 

    “Right. Sorry about that.” She scratched at her ponytail awkwardly and glanced at Eren. “Anyway, we’d better head out before it gets dark.” Hanji wrinkled her nose distastefully. “I hate using the lamps at a crime scene. You always miss the important things.”

   Grisha nodded. “I’ll follow in my car. I just need to grab my bag. If you’ll wait a moment please,” he said, turning and disappearing up the stairs. True to his word, he was only gone for a minute. When he returned, he’d already donned his jacket and he had a bag slung over his shoulders. He paused to pull Eren into a quick hug. “I don’t know when I’ll be home Eren. Get to sleep at a decent time.” 

      Eren nodded and watched reluctantly as his dad walked out of the door. He’d been looking forward to having dinner with the man. 

  Hanji walked over and gave him a tight, but comforting squeeze. “I’ll see you around kiddo.” She followed his father, the door shutting with a snap behind her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As an important note, "beat" is a term cops and the media use referring simply to their normal pattern, habits, ect. Also, updates will be every Tuesday and Friday (she says nervously). Next time we get to meet LEVI!!!!!!!!!!!! <33333333


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, special thanks to my beautiful beta xxDeja-Uchihaxx :)

    _This job never gets any easier,_ Erwin thought, nose wrinkling at the rancid odor of rotting garbage and decaying flesh. Gravel crunched under his boots as he picked his way carefully to the crime scene. The area had already been cordoned off and was now guarded by two beat cops. They nodded in greeting as he approached and lifted the yellow police tape for him to duck under. The scene was undisturbed as far as he could tell, but they’d need forensics in quickly before any potential evidence could be lost to the elements. 

     He crouched beside the cadaver and gave him a cursory once over. It was a man in his mid-thirties, with peppered black hair splattered with dried blood and hollow, whiskey colored eyes. The accusing stare was unnerving, as if the dead man were demanding answers he could not give. Erwin pulled on his gloves and shut the man’s eyelids, closing them carefully.  It was easier to work without an audience. The victim lay stark naked and spread eagle against the concrete.  He noted the ligature marks on his wrists and ankles as well as the barrage of dark purple and blue bruises littering his body. Shallow, blood crusted cuts adorned his abdomen, from his chest to his navel, a stark contrast to his deathly pale skin. Erwin’s fingers hovered over the man’s neck, which had been flayed open, a cut so deep it practically severed his head. It was clear that the poor man had been tortured before his death, and even that had not offered much reprieve. 

     _It_ _must_ _be him_ _,_ Erwin thought, eyes sliding to the man’s lips. He felt his chest deflate slightly, his shoulders sagging. As expected, the man’s lips were crudely sewn together, the stitching pattern indicative of an amateur.  Erwin gently tilted the head, wary of disturbing too much before Grisha or Hanji got there. He grimaced when he found his prize. They were small, and well hidden, but there was no mistaking the distinctive burn pattern at the base of the cadaver’s neck. They’d used a Taser to subdue him. _There can be no mistaking it; this is the same man._  

    Erwin stood abruptly and snatched off his gloves with a frustrated growl. He’d found exactly what he was looking for, but nothing more. It was always that way. The killer was methodical, careful, and disciplined. Everything he did, including dumping the body, was done with a specific purpose. He’d never allow the police to find more than he wanted. It was a sick and twisted game of a madman’s design, and he wasn’t going to stop any time soon. Unfortunately for Erwin, knowing they were dealing with a psychopath wasn’t enough, and it never would be. The only thing he could be sure of now, was that they had a serial killer on their hands.   

  Erwin pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed deeply. He’d had his suspicions in the beginning that this was the work of a madman, but it had been too early to tell. It irritated him that it had to take the sacrifice of two more individuals to affirm what he already knew. 

   The first victim, a young woman by the name of Nifa, was found two weeks earlier in a park. Her body had been messier, which indicated that she’d put up a fight before her death. Her body also lacked the Taser markings, meaning the killer had learned to properly subdue his victims before he killed them. Erwin’s gut had twisted into an ugly coil of knots when he saw her body and read the M.E.’s report. Her death had been brutal, and it screamed a bloody promise of more to come. The second victim, another man named Keji, was discovered a month later. His body was found in the loading dock of his job, naked and exposed. The kill had been cleaner this time, leaving nothing overtly helpful to find, and that unnerved Erwin more than the first murder. It was an unspoken vow, a guarantee that another would follow.  

   And now, less than two weeks later, Ian Dietrich became victim number three, confirming his theory. Sorum had been reported missing by his younger brother several days ago after he didn’t show up to a parent-teacher conference and, with Erwin’s insistence, the cops searched diligently for him. And then, just two hours ago, there was an anonymous tip reporting a dead body. This also happened with the first two murders. The body was left in a moderately populated area, where it would be easily discovered. And, just like the previous victims, he’d been tortured for days before he was executed. He now only needed Hanji and Grisha’s exam to confirm his theory before he could declare the murders the work of a serial killer. 

    Erwin wasn’t naïve enough to believe that it would end here. No, the bodies would continue to pile up until San Diego was bathed in crimson. Hysteria would sweep through the streets like a plague and rattle the fragile bones of the populace. They were a city under siege, and everyone was woefully unaware of it.  

   The crunch of tires on gravel pulled Erwin back to the present. He turned and watched Hanji’s blue jeep lurch to a stop before the woman came barreling out of it seconds later. She quickly snapped on her gloves and hastened to him, humming to herself. Erwin shook his head, a small smirk playing on his lips. Hanji was eccentric, but her oddities helped brighten morbid situations that otherwise threatened Erwin’s sanity. Behind her, Grisha Jaeger carried the body bag and medical supplies. The fond smile he’d worn slipped from his face when he ducked under the police tape. His gray eyes found the body and his expression turned stony, cold and detached. His face betrayed nothing of his inner thoughts, even when he reached Erwin and stood over the dead man.  

   “What do you think Erwin? Are we dealing with the same perp?” he asked calmly, nodding to the body.  

   Erwin nodded and crossed his arms over his chest. “I have little doubt in my mind we’re dealing with a serial killer. I just need your and Hanji’s report to make it official.” 

    Grisha pursed his lips and nodded at his young protégé who’d stopped a few yards away to properly cover her hair. “We both agreed with your theory after the second victim. Unfortunately, we’re playing a game with politics here. They don’t exactly like gut instincts.” 

  “Well, we all know politicians are certified idiots anyway, so what do their opinions matter?” Hanji chimed in, stopping at Grisha’s elbow. She put her hands on her hips and fixed the tall blonde with a mischievous glare. “Erwin, you better not have touched my victim! I heard he was in prime condition and I’d like him to remain that way!” she said sternly . 

   He held up his hands. “I wouldn’t dream of ruining your specimen Hanji. I just gave him a quick once over.”  

  Hanji huffed and poked him hard in the chest. “That’s _my_ job. Back off,” she warned playfully. She dropped to her knees beside the victim and gently traced her fingers down his face. The playfulness bled from her, and her eyes had darkened. Her lips were pressed together in a thin, grim line. “I’m so sorry you had to suffer.” Her voice was so low Erwin would think he’d imagined it, had he not expected it.  

   Unlike Grisha, she connected with the victims before her, treated them as if they were living and breathing. He didn’t understand her methods, then again, he’d never seen the need to scrutinize them. Hanji may be the youngest member of his team, but she was arguably the most intelligent. She’d been top of her class in high school, junior college, and the police academy. Her I.Q left something to be desired as well. Grisha had recommended and mentored her when she’d requested to join almost immediately after graduating the academy. She was flamboyant, talkative, and passionate about things most would find utterly horrific. There were few times he’d ever seen the young woman lose her temper or cry however. She was particularly levelheaded when the situation called for it, a trait which Erwin found admirable in a person so young. 

    The sun dipped on the horizon, and a small breeze picked up. Erwin watched silently while Hanji and Grisha worked, muttering to each other quietly. He tuned them out when their terminology became more technical and pointed. He’d learned the hard way not to try and decipher their medical talk, and to just wait for a proper report. 

   The minutes dragged torturously, and after about twenty or so minutes of assessment, the duo motioned him back over. Grisha stood and dusted off his slacks while Hanji began to pack up the body. “We have to wait until after the autopsy to call it, but this is definitely your guy.”         

   Erwin grimaced. The wind blew softly and he shivered involuntarily. He could already see the pile of bodies before him. 

* * *

The first dead body she had ever seen was her mother’s, father’s, and older brother’s. She was six years old. The memory of that day, the rancid smell and taste of blood, their brains splattered on the wall, and the sound of her horrified screams was forever embedded in her mind. The faces of the policemen, teachers, and friends’ parents that surrounded her after it was all over swam before her eyes almost every night before she went to sleep. And then her aunt and uncle were there, and for the first time since her father destroyed her family she smiled. She laughed, threw her head back and laughed until her throat was raw and tears streamed down her face. It would be okay. Everything would be okay.   

   She’d carried that belief even after her aunt succumbed to her ailment and her uncle drew away from her. Even when it wasn’t okay, she fervently believed things would be better. And then she’d met the Jaegers and their son Eren, whose eyes were brighter than the sun itself. She’d found her refuge. She’d found someone to protect. Grisha had become her mentor after discovering her love for science and she followed him all the way to the present. 

   Hanji scrubbed her hands under warm water, her pain flowing down the drain along with the dirt under her nails. _Don’t view him as another corpse. See the individual, the life, the spark, the magic he carried while he lived._ She turned off the faucet and dried her hands quickly before adorning her gloves. _Think about him laughing, the light in his eyes, and the low timber of his voice._ She tucked her hair under a cap and tied her apron around her waist. _Imagine him embracing his lover, planting a soft kiss on her cheek._ She pulled her face mask on and wheeled her tray of instruments next to the examination table. _Just don’t look at him like he was never a human being._  

 “Hanji, are you ready to begin?” Grisha asked calmly.  

   She looked at her mentor and nodded determinedly. She glanced at Erwin who stood close enough to see everything she was doing, but far enough away not to contaminate any trace evidence they might get. He gave her an encouraging nod, his lips turning up ever so slightly at the corners. She took a deep breath before turning to the body before her, ready to find out what exactly happened to him. Grisha pressed play on the recorder. 

   “Today is Monday, September 22, 2015. I, Medical Examiner Hanji Zoe, am examining Ian Dietrich under direction of Senior Medical Examiner Grisha Jaeger and Captain Erwin Smith of the San Diego Homicide Department. Mr. Dietrich is male, approximately six feet three inches tall. He is thirty-two and weighs approximately one hundred and seventy-eight pounds. He has a birthmark on his back left shoulder blade and a faded scar above his right eye.” 

   Hanji took a deep breath and picked up her ink pad. “I am now going to collect his fingerprints.” She carefully grabbed his thumb and pressed it against the soft sponge before pressing it against the pad just beside him. It was deathly silent as she worked. The three living individuals scarcely breathed until she had all ten fingerprints recorded. She quickly wiped off the ink with a wet sponge before continuing. 

   “I will now examine the body. Mr. Dietrich has several large bruises on his torso and thighs, consistent with that of two previous victims. These were given ante mortem. He has forty-nine shallow cuts along his abdomen, also given ante mortem. He has ligature markings on his wrists and ankles, indicating that he was bound for several days. The patterns are consistent with nylon rope; however, there are no fibers to confirm this.” She paused to take snapshots to be logged into evidence. Her stomach was beginning to flip, but she was determined to keep her cool. She hadn’t performed many autopsies, and they still got to her every time.  

   “The victim’s mouth has been sewn shut with black thread. Judging from the blood smear around his mouth this was delivered post mortem.” She tried not to imagine the joy the killer would get from doing this to a dead man. What sick and deprived man would purposefully sew someone’s mouth shut? “There are two burn marks approximately two centimeters in diameter, most likely inflicted from a Taser gun. This was how our killer likely subdued the victim.” She took a quick picture, her hands shaking slightly. “Mr. Dietrich’s throat was cut, as well, severing his carotid artery. He would have bled to death in minutes.” 

   “I will now take an x-ray of the victim and a blood sample to be analyzed by the lab.” Hanji turned to Grisha, who helped her prep the body. 

    Erwin hadn’t so much as moved or spoken since the process began. He stood silently by the sink, watching with a blank expression. His behavior would seem unnerving to some, but it was exactly what Hanji liked. Erwin had an air about him that demanded tranquility wherever he was. Even his voice, which she’d always found to be downright alluring, was smooth as silk and dripping with honey. His sharp, blue eyes took in everything around him quickly, but they could be relaxed when the situation called for it. At moments like these, when she could feel her resolve slipping, she needed to see him like that more than she needed oxygen to breathe. 

   After she’d finished taking a few samples she quickly noted that his right shoulder had been dislocated and three ribs had been cracked. Satisfied that everything else appeared normal, she turned to finish the autopsy quickly. She moved to pick up her scalpel to begin cutting him open. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest and her throat drying as the flesh gave way under the blade. She tried to ignore the sound his skin made as it ripped apart. Her hand was trembling when she finished. Concern filled Grisha’s eyes, but he didn’t move to comfort her. This was something she’d have to work through this eventually, and depending on him was only a hindrance.  

     Hanji straightened and rolled her shoulders. _It’s almost over,_ she reminded herself. She pulled his skin open carefully, exposing his organs to the sterile air. She gingerly began pulling the organs out one by one and measuring them on the scale and scribbling notes down in her journal. She collected a few samples of his stomach contents to send to the lab for further analysis. Grisha helped then, putting the organs in protective containers to be sent to the freezers. Afterwards, she skillfully sewed his skin back together. 

    “Well that concludes it,” she sighed, taking her gloves off and tossing them into the waste basket. “We’ll have to wait for toxicology to get back to us, but judging by the way his liver looked, he hadn’t been drugged. He was severely dehydrated, however. They probably only gave him just enough to keep him alive while he was captive. It was the severed carotid artery that ultimately killed him.” She rubbed unconsciously at her throat, grimacing.  

   Erwin unfroze from his perch by the wall and moved closer to the body. “And how long ago was that? We need to try and establish a time line.”  

    Hanji bit her lip, and looked at the X-rays thoughtfully. “Well…based on the condition of the body, I’d wager he died anywhere between twenty-four and thirty-six hours ago. It’s difficult to nail down because there was little decay, meaning he couldn’t have been out in that lot very long. Whoever did this kept him stored before dumping him. Somewhere cold enough to preserve him short term without freezing him.” 

     The blonde man processed that for a moment. “He disappeared September 16, which means he was tortured for almost four or five days before he was killed.” Erwin glared down at the body, as if the dead man would answer his questions. “Nifa was missing for two and a half weeks before her body was discovered…and Keji was gone for eight. He isn’t consistent with how long he keeps them before killing them.”  

    Grisha crossed his arms over his chest and met Erwin’s eyes. “You need to declare this as a serial case, and quickly.” He took of his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “I see bodies come through here every day, but I’d rather this be the last of his work.” 

   Erwin dropped his gaze to Ian’s face, frozen in death, and grit his teeth. “I wish it was that easy.” 

* * *

 

    Erwin had joined the San Diego Police Department when he was 24, almost eleven years ago. He’d started out as a rookie, working the beat with his friend Mike Zacharias. He found his niche easily amongst the officers, until he had a sizeable number of friends. Together he, Mike, Petra Ral, Eld Gin, Oluo Bozado, Luke Siss, and Gunther Schultz rose through the ranks quickly. When he transferred to the homicide department six years ago, he’d requested that they be transferred as well to be his special team. Four years ago, he was promoted to captain and since then had done his best to live up to his predecessor’s legacy. He’d also gained the courage to begin dating Petra, who had been dropping hints for about a month that she was mutually interested. He’d needed her, especially when Mike was killed a few months later.  A few weeks after that Grisha introduced him to Hanji Zoe. 

   In all his years on the force, he had seen criminals in all shapes and sizes. He’d seen the sick and deprived, humanities greatest enemies. He’d stared these individuals in the eyes on numerous occasions, memorizing the face of evil, the voice of the demons. He’d watched helplessly as families fell apart in the wake of tragedy, hollering at God in undiluted rage. He’d seen the innocent faces of men, women, and children disappear behind a mahogany coffin and piles of cement and dirt. He’d taken it all in, and vowed to put the bastards responsible behind bars. He’d been young and naïve then. Predators got away, leaving grieving mothers with nothing but memories and his unfulfilled promise. That was life for a homicide detective, and he’s come to grudgingly accept it. But this case was different. He wouldn’t, _couldn’t_ let this one go.  

      Erwin straightened in his chair and cleared his throat. Everyone snapped to attention, except Grisha who lounged on the small sofa in the corner of Erwin’s office. “This is the situation as of a few hours ago: a man named Ian Dietrich was found dead in a lot by a group of joggers. After examining the body, Hanji and Grisha determined that his injuries were consistent with injuries sustained by two previous victims. They also agreed with my theory that the deaths are the work of a single perpetrator. As of now, I am declaring this an open investigation. All of you will be on the task force.” 

    The team exchanged looks and Eld stepped forward. “Where do we start?” he asked, scratching at the nape of his neck. Petra wrinkled her nose at him and stepped closer to Hanji.  

   Erwin pointed to Luke and Oluo. “I want the two of you to work victimology. So far I have been unable to find a connection between the victims, but my gut tells me that there is something else that we’re missing.  If anyone can find it, it’s the two of you.” The pair nodded, and exchanged determined smirks. He turned to Gunther and Eld. “I need you two to revisit each crime scene and go through it with a fine-toothed comb. I want any, and all surveillance cameras examined, including traffic cameras in the vicinity. Re-canvas the surrounding neighborhoods to see if anyone saw _anything._ ” They mock saluted and marched from the room. Luke and Oluo followed with small waves to Grisha and Hanji.  

   Petra watched her comrades leave before turning to her husband. “What will you have me do Captain?” Her eyes held his gaze steadily, trying to read him. 

  Erwin hesitated. He hated the idea of Petra being in the field, and she knew that. After losing Mike, he’d been fearful that she’d follow him to the grave as well. At the time, she’d worked with S.W.A.T and often returned to him bruised and worse for wear. Convincing her to switch to homicide at his side had been a hard-fought battle, and he’d done his best to let her forge her own career since then. That didn’t mean he was comfortable with her chasing down a man this sadistic. “I need you to handle the media. It’s only a matter of time before they catch wind of this. I don’t want things to get out of hand. I also want you to see if we can get the local F.B.I cooperation, although I’d rather we not use them.” The last time he’d worked a joint assignment with the F.B.I had ended in bloodshed and broken trust.  

  Petra narrowed her eyes at him, but otherwise didn’t comment on the obvious ploy to keep her out of the field. She’d bring it up later, when they didn’t have an audience. “Will do. I’ll review the evidence and prepare statements. I have a friend in the Bureau who may be willing to work pro bono with us, but we have to be completely open with him.”  

    Erwin nodded. “That’s reasonable I suppose, but only contact them as a last resort.” He turned to Hanji and Grisha, both of whom had remained silent the entire time. “As for the two of you, I want you to reexamine the two previous victims, especially Nifa. I’ll secure a court order to exhume her body; Keji’s has not been released to the family yet so we should be fine there.” 

   Hanji cocked her head to the side. “Why are we reexamining them?” She looked between Erwin and Grisha confusedly. “We collected as much evidence as we could from them.”  

    “ _You_ didn’t perform the autopsy,” Erwin clarified, peering at her closely. “I want to take another look at them, just in case we overlooked anything.”  

     The young woman blushed slightly, eyes darting to Grisha. If he felt slighted by the comment, it didn’t show. “Okay,” she murmured, gnawing on her bottom lip nervously. “When should we get started?”  

     “I would prefer you start tomorrow, but there’s one more thing we need if we’re going to solve this case quickly,” he replied, leaning back in his desk chair. He rubbed at his temple. Things just couldn’t be easy, could they?  

  

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here are the character ages if anyone is curious! More will be added as the story continues! :3  
> • Levi Ackerman-29  
> • Eren Yeager-17  
> • Erwin Smith-35  
> • Petra Ral-32  
> • Mikasa Ackerman-17  
> • Armin Alert-16  
> • Jean Kirsten-17  
> • Hanji Zoe-26  
> • Grisha Yeager-42  
> • Annie Leonhart-18  
> • Reiner Braun-19  
> • Bertolt Hoover-18  
> • Historia Reiss-16  
> • Marco Bott-16  
> • Connie Springer-16  
> • Sasha Blouse-17


	4. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS AND KUDOS TO MY AMAZING BETA! SERIOUSLY I'D BE LOST WITHOUT HER! :3

_This bastard is sick._ Levi forcefully tamped down his rising anger as he gazed down at the picture of Emily Rossen, or rather, what was left of her. In life, she had been described as vibrant and warm, with a personality and presence that filled a room and demanded attention. Her smile had been innocent and welcoming. Her eyes had sparkled with wit and intelligence. A sweet young girl on the cusp of woman hood, and the verge of greatness, was now nothing more than a tattered and abused carcass. Her beautiful blonde hair, what was left of it anyway, was dark and matted with blood. Her powder blue eyes were blank and unseeing, and her mouth was open in a silent scream. Her long, pale throat had been brutally slashed, the dark crimson cascading down her chest that was littered with dark bruises. Blood caked her thighs and belly, deep wounds carved from her chest to her navel. In the end, death had been a mercy for her, as it was for the four other young girls before her.

      Levi placed the photo in the middle of the table, his steel gray eyes now trained on the portly man sitting across from him. Richard Gleason fidgeted in his seat, his beady brown eyes darting frantically around the room, anywhere but the picture of the girl he’d murdered and molested. He rocked back and forth slightly, his beefy hands clamped tightly in front of him. He hadn’t spoken a word since he’d been brought in early that afternoon, and Levi was growing impatient.

    “Do you know who this is Mr. Gleason?” the raven-haired man asked, tapping the picture with his finger. 

    Gleason swallowed and shrugged his shoulders. “I may have seen her picture in the papers.” 

    Levi bit back a vicious snarl. Witnesses placed him at the library where the girl had been abducted, and at her school days before she’d been taken. They’d found pictures of Emily and the other girls he’d murdered hidden at his work station, along with souvenirs he’d stolen from them. And although the lab hadn’t confirmed it, Levi knew that the DNA collected from the scene and Emily’s body was Gleason’s. Even without a confession they had enough to put a needle in the bastard’s arm, but they needed him to cooperate. They needed to find victim number six. 

   That thought in mind, Levi schooled his features and placed the other victims’ pictures on the table. “I suppose you don’t have any idea who these four girls are then, either?”

    Gleason’s eyes darkened as he looked at each photograph and his shoulders trembled slightly. His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip and he shook his head almost frantically. “I’ve never seen those girls before. Only in the papers, I swear.”

   “Then you wouldn’t mind explaining why you had dozens of pictures of them hidden in your home. Or why these,” he thrust five envelopes onto the table, “were in your desk at work.” Levi held up the first envelope and shook it in the man’s face. “Isn’t this the bracelet Rachel Deboer’s mother gave her on her fourteenth birthday eight months ago?” No answer. “Or maybe you remember where you found the ring that Christina Washington swears her daughter Alexia wore every day?” No response. “And what about this locket? Didn’t this belong to Camilla Washington?” 

    The other man was visibly shaking now, his pudgy cheeks flushed crimson. His knuckles were white where his fingers gripped the edge of the table. “I-I swear I-”

   Levi slammed his fist into the table, and in the next second he had his hand fisted in the man’s collar. He leaned in until their faces were inches apart and he could smell the stale sweat pouring from the other man. “Stop fucking around with us Gleason. We know it was you. You stalked them. You kidnapped them. You tortured and raped those poor little girls, and when you got bored you killed them.”

    Gleason sputtered, shaking his head madly. He pulled uselessly at Levi’s wrist, trying to dislodge him. “No! I wouldn’t hurt them! They were my angels-so perfect, so innocent! I couldn’t!” 

   Growling, Levi shoved one of the pictures into the man’s tear stained face. “Is this what you do to your angels, Gleason? Carve them up and then toss away their bodies?!” he shouted, shaking the man threateningly. “You’re a sick bastard that gets off on killing little girls!” He released his collar and watched as the man toppled over backwards. His vision tinted red as he stared down at the slobbering, pathetic waste that was Richard Gleason. “I wish I could be there when they put you down like the animal you are. I’d press the plunger myself.” 

    Fear flickered in Richard’s eyes and the color drained from his face. Levi wanted to relish in the man’s terror, at the realization that he would die a slow and terrible death, but he couldn’t just yet. They still had to find the missing girl. His gut twisted uncomfortably as he lowered himself back into his chair. He waited until the other man clambered shakily back into his seat.

  “Of course, if you cooperate with us, you won’t have to die.” He hated himself even more when he saw the hope in those beady brown eyes. He kept his expression blank as he held up a photograph of Stella McKenna, the most recent abductee. It was one of the only pictures her father had of the girl, and Levi swore to himself that it would not be the last. The other girls had been kept for five days before they were killed and subsequently dumped. Stella had only been taken two days previous. There was still time to save her. 

   Richard swallowed a lump in his throat, and his brown eyes grew dark with hunger and lust as he gazed at it. His fingers twitched as if to take it, and Levi almost wished the man would so he’d have an excuse to break them. “Where is the girl?” Levi demanded, voice tight with anger. 

   Gleason met Levi’s gaze calculatingly, and wet his lips. “What are you offering?” 

   Levi bit the inside of his cheek to keep from diving across the table and pummeling the bastard. Richard knew that he’d face prison whether he cooperated or not, but with Stella as a bargaining chip he could potentially manipulate things into his favor. Levi loathed giving a man like him such power, but his hands were tied. He had a job to do whether he liked the method or not. 

  “The D.A. is offering you twenty-five to life with parole in exchange for a confession to five counts of second degree murder, and Stella McKenna’s whereabouts.” Levi glared contemptuously at the man across from him. 

   Gleason leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest. “I want the deal in writing, and I want my lawyer to witness the confession.” He raised an eyebrow when Levi didn’t immediately move. “If I were you, I’d hurry. Little girls can’t hold their breath forever.”

   Levi was on his feet before he could stop himself, his hand flying to the gun strapped to his waist. He hazily recognized the flash of terror on Gleason’s face, his plea for mercy, and the deafening **_bang_** of the interview room door as it collided with the wall. He could distantly hear his partner screaming at him to stand down and drop his weapon. He knew that he should, but he didn’t want to. His chest heaved with each breath and sweat pooled on his brow as he stared down the barrel buried between the smug bastard’s eyes. One pump of the trigger and it would all be over. Justice would be served. 

   A tense minute passed before Levi stepped away from the cowering man and tucked his weapon back into his holster. A warm hand gripped his elbow and steered him from the room. Keller’s voice was low and urgent in his ear, but he couldn’t understand what they meant. In the next second he stood in the bright hallway with Anka Rheinberger, the assistant D.A., and his boss Michael Solano. He heard the door slam closed behind him, and the tension immediately melted from his shoulders. 

   Michael smiled and clapped him on the shoulder. “Great job in there. Think you’ve got him rattled enough to confess?”

   Levi brushed his bangs out of his face and smirked. “I’m sure he’ll spill when he’s finished pissing his pants.” He glanced at the A.D.A and nodded. “Hello again Rheinberger. Always a pleasure to see you.”

   The woman raised a delicate eyebrow. “There’s no need to lie to me Ackerman. We both know you hate me.” She grinned and nodded at the door behind him. “Although I can’t say I agree with your methods of interrogation, I must say they are effective. Nice job.”

   “Thanks,” he said gruffly before turning to Michael. “Have the lab results come back?” 

    The gray-haired man nodded and waved a manila envelope. “It’s definitely Gleason’s DNA. The bastard didn’t do a good job of covering his tracks this time.”

    “Yeah, because he was too busy rushing to snatch Stella.” Levi stuffed his hands in his pockets and exhaled deeply. “Do you want me there when we make the extraction?” 

   Michael gave Levi a cursory once over and shook his head. “There’s no need. I’m sure Keller can handle things on his own.” The easy smile wavered, and the man eyed him seriously. “Go home and take a breather. You can finish the reports tomorrow.” 

    Levi rolled his eyes and shook the man off. “There’s no need to baby me Solano. I’ll have the reports on your desk in the morning.” 

   He turned on his heel and briskly walked away before the older man could reply or force him to leave. He could feel the man’s weighted gaze resting between his shoulder blades however, and it took more control than strictly necessary to keep from sprinting down the hallway. It irritated Levi to no end, that Michael could read him so easily, that he could practically read his mind just by looking at him for a mere moment. The man’s gray-blue eyes were sharp and missed nothing, not even the smallest muscle twitch. It was unnerving to say the least. 

    Levi breathed easier when he rounded the corner and paused to slump against the wall. He sighed deeply and ran a shaky hand down his face. Cases involving children were always the hardest to bare. It never mattered how long you worked homicide, or how tough you’d come to be- when a child was killed, it cut deep. For the life of him Levi couldn’t understand how or why people would intentionally hurt someone so innocent and defenseless. And what Richard Gleason had done to those girls… Levi stopped himself before he could get worked up again. The important thing was catching bastards like him and putting them away for good. He could drown his emotions in liquor later. 

     He stayed there for a long minute before moving a few doors down to his private office. He shut and locked the door behind himself and unceremoniously plopped down into his office chair. Levi rubbed at his temples to ward off the building headache, a low groan rumbling in his chest. _Maybe I should take the day off,_ he mused to himself, knowing damn well that he wouldn’t. The sooner he got it over with, the sooner he could put the case behind him.

Sighing, Levi booted up his computer quickly and pulled up the half-finished mission report. He rubbed at his temple again and began hammering out the details of the interview, the DNA results, etc., his fingers flying across the keyboard. After a few minutes the words and letters began to mash and jumble together, and his eyes stung from dryness. He paused and rubbed at them with a sigh. _I need a fucking vacation,_ he thought bitterly. He switched off the screen and slumped over his desk, burying his face in his arms. _A quick nap couldn’t hurt_ , he mused as he began to slip into unconsciousness.

* * *

A sharp knock roused him just as he’d begun to drift off, and Levi groaned low in his throat. He glanced bleary eyed at the clock on his desk, and cursed softly under his breath. Only ten minutes had passed; not nearly enough time to stave off the pounding in his head. Grumbling, he pushed to his feet and briskly strode to the door, throwing it open. 

    Brandon Keller stood just on the other side, hand poised to knock again. His dark brown eyes swept over Levi’s slightly haggard appearance, narrowing slightly. He dropped his hand to his side and cleared his throat. “Mr. Solano asked me to check on you,” he said lamely. 

    Levi resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Is that all then?” he drawled, voice still husky from sleep. He swallowed the grit in his throat and leaned against the doorjamb. “Surely you have better things to do?”

    Keller shrugged. “We’ve got what we needed and Mr. Solano already sent out an extraction team,” he muttered, dropping his gaze. He stared at his feet in contemplative silence for a moment before continuing. “You lost control in there,” he said finally, meeting Levi’s gaze again. “You jeopardized our entire case with your temper.”

    The shorter male raised an eyebrow, shoulders tensing. “That so?” he asked in a steely voice.       

   Brandon clenched his jaw and crossed his arms over his chest. “Yes,” he hissed. “My team has worked this case from the very beginning while _you_ were holed up in your office. We had more than enough evidence to nail the bastard to the wall, and then _you-_ ” he growled and yanked a hand through his honey blonde hair, “you came in and demanded a forty-eight hour hold on Gleason. And while that may not have been wrong, pulling a fucking _gun_ on a suspect in interrogation is! Any half decent lawyer can get the confession and the evidence recovered after his arrest thrown out! What the fuck were you thinking?!”

   “Let me make one thing painfully clear to you,” Levi bit out icily. He pushed himself away from the wall and, despite his short stature, towered over the other man. “I was called in because _you_ had _shit_ on Gleason. That bastard was going to walk, and more girls were going to die. Holding him was the only chance we had of saving Stella and _legally_ obtaining that evidence. More importantly, detective Keller,” he spat, “Mr. Solano gave me express permission to get a confession by _any means necessary_.”

   Keller snorted derisively. “You expect me to believe that our boss condoned your abysmal, reckless behavior? You almost killed someone! This could have ended a lot worse and you’re damn lucky it didn’t.”

   “I’m damn lucky, you say?” Levi stepped into the taller man’s space, a dark shadow falling over his face. The temperature between them dropped ten degrees, the tension crackling like electricity. He didn’t miss the slight flicker of fear in Keller’s eyes, nor the hesitant step back that he took. Levi’s eyes flashed dangerously as he continued to stalk forward until he had crowded the other man against the far wall. 

     “Michael Solano appointed me to head of Interrogation and Espionage _because_ of my methods. I am the most effective _because_ I don’t allow decorum to constrain me. And what’s more,” he punctuated his words by slamming his fist against the wall beside Brandon’s head. The plaster cracked under his knuckles. “I have complete control. Make no mistake: Gleason was _exactly_ where I wanted him, just as you are.” His lips tilted into a predatory grin. “You don’t have to like it, but you will accept it.”

   Levi drew away abruptly and stalked back into his office without waiting for a reply. He slammed the door shut and leaned against it for a moment, listening to Keller’s hurried footsteps disappear down the hall. He sighed and ran a hand tiredly down his face, willing his pulse to slow. He inhaled deeply and willed his wired body to relax, for the adrenaline to bleed from his muscles. Jesus, what was he getting so worked up about?

   _You lost control,_ his mind supplied traitorously. _You lost control and nearly killed a man._ Levi grit his teeth and dug his nails into his palms. For a moment, and only a moment, Levi had lost himself in his anger. He’d stepped over the line he’d set for himself years ago, the line that kept him from being the monsters he fought daily. He’d been high, delirious even, with power and he’d greedily fed on Gleason’s fear. The situation had escalated before he could reign in his bloodlust, and had Keller not pulled him out, Gleason and Stella McKenna would be dead. Their blood would be on his hands. _It’s not as if that’s a new thing._

Levi sank to the floor, back still pressed firmly against the door. He buried his face in his hands and pressed the heel of his hands into his eyes until iridescent shapes danced behind his lids. _You need to be better. You can’t keep losing control like this._ He knew that he was playing with fire every time he stepped into the interrogation room. He’d thought that interrogation would be easier than field work, but each time he stared into the eyes of a child molesting bastard like Richard Gleason, he allowed his temper to flare. Michael Solano _knew_ how dangerous Levi could be, yet he consistently called him in anytime they needed to close a case quickly. For some reason the man trusted Levi’s control, and perhaps that was the only thing keeping him from completely losing himself. 

    His phone chirped in his pocket, the shrill sound grating against his ears. Gritting his teeth against the sudden throb of pain in his head, Levi quickly dug his phone from his back pocket and glared at Erwin’s name flashing up at him innocently. _What_ _could this blonde idiot want now?_ His finger twitched, itching to ignore the call, but doing so would only prompt Erwin to call again. 

   Sighing, Levi punched the little receiver and pressed the phone to his ear. “What do you want?” he began, sparing any pleasantries. The sooner the conversation ended, the sooner he could finish his damn report and go home.

    Erwin chuckled lightly. “Well, someone isn’t having a very good day.” Levi could practically see the smirk on his face. _Damn him._

    “Did you actually want something?” Levi growled in response, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers. 

    “I didn’t call at a bad time, did I?” Erwin asked innocently. “This is normally the time you’d be moping in your office, isn’t it?

  He resisted the urge to hang up, and simply took a long, open mouthed breath. Losing his temper over the phone would only amuse Erwin further. “I really don’t have time for this, so if it’s not important it can wait.”

     “Okay I’ll get right to it then,” Erwin interrupted, suddenly serious. Levi exhaled deeply and waited for him to continue. “Do you remember a man named Ian Dietrich?”

 “You know damn well I remember that asshole,” he bit out through gritted teeth. “What about him?” 

  Years ago, when his life had some semblance of peace, Ian Dietrich had been a thorn in his side. The reporter had made it his mission to make Levi’s life Hell, stalking his witnesses for exclusive interviews and staking out crime scenes for candid shots. Levi had broken several of his cameras and threatened the man within an inch of his life more than a dozen times. After Levi’s last field case, however, the man had backed off and all but disappeared. Levi would prefer to keep it that way.

     Erwin hesitated before answering. “He was found dead earlier this evening.” 

     Levi straightened at that, eyes widening slightly. “You’re shitting me, right? What the hell happened?”

     “I can’t give you any explicit details over the phone, but he was murdered,” Erwin replied tensely. “Hanji finished the autopsy a little over an hour ago, and confirmed it.”

  Levi whistled. “Well damn,” he said with a shake of his head. He’d detested Ian, but not enough to wish him dead. His other enemies had other opinions on that apparently. “Any leads yet?” he asked. 

    “That was why I called you,” Erwin replied tiredly. “Ian is the most recent victim in what I believe to be a string of murders. I figured you could-”

     “No,” Levi interrupted coldly. He grit his teeth and glared at the ceiling. “I know where you’re going with this, and my answer is no Erwin.” 

     The other man was silent for a long moment before responding. “No?” he echoed tightly, fury burning hotly in the low timber of his voice. “I don’t think you understand how dangerous this situation is. In four months, we’ve had three victims that were abducted, tortured, murdered, and dumped in broad daylight with no witnesses to any of it. This has the potential-”

     “I know what this has the potential to turn into Smith,” Levi snapped back, “but that doesn’t make this my problem. I’m not a field agent, and I have no desire to become one again. If you want my help with interrogations, fine, but get me a damn suspect. Other than that, you’re on your own.” 

     The tension between them was palpable. Levi had never outright refused Erwin on a serious matter such as this before. He’d always regarded him highly, and by association his decisions. The man’s intelligence and intuition was a force to be reckoned with, and Levi found little point in questioning him. But this was different. He’d made it perfectly clear years ago, that he was done, and Erwin was aware of that. He knew better than anyone all that Levi’d lost and suffered. 

    “You know I wouldn’t ask you if I had any other choice,” Erwin pressed. 

      “Don’t talk to me about choices,” Levi growled into the receiver. “I’ve made some tough calls in the past and this time is no different.” He pinched the bridge of his nose again. The incessant pounding in his head had grown exponentially, and was now making it hard to keep calm. Prolonging the conversation would only make it worse. Levi drew his knees to his chest and rested his chin on top. _This is for the best. You know it is._ “I’m not changing my mind about this, Erwin. I’m sorry.” 

    The other man didn’t reply for a long moment. Levi heard whispering on the other line, and then what sounded like a door slamming before Erwin finally spoke. “Look,” he began resignedly, “I know what I’m asking isn’t fair, and what I’m about to say is only going to upset you, but you need to hear it.” He sucked in a deep breath and continued. “We both know that this is about what happened four years ago. You blamed yourself then for Farlan and Isabel’s death, and you still do.” 

    “Don’t go there,” Levi growled. “Don’t you ever fucking talk about what you don’t understand.” His fingers unconsciously tightened around the phone until the metal dug into his palm. 

    Erwin ignored him. “The truth is you’re running from it, and you have been for four years,” he said. “You’ve changed Levi, and not in a good way. The only way you’re going to get better is by confronting what happened and accepting that it wasn’t your fault.”

    Levi laughed dryly. “Oh, and I suppose working this case is going to do that?” he sneered. 

   “Oh, it won’t,” Erwin conceded, “but hiding behind your desk in your office hasn’t, and won’t, work, and you know it. You’ve become a coward, Levi.”

     “Go to Hell,” Levi whispered darkly. He hung up before the man had a chance to respond and threw his phone across the room. It bounced off the corner of his desk, cracking the screen, before thumping to the floor. 

      _Damn you, Erwin._ Levi squeezed his eyes shut and buried his head in arms. His chest was beginning to constrict, his lungs drawing in less and less air. His head was splitting open. His throat and mouth had gone dry. His body shook violently, and a thin sheen of sweat coated his forehead. _Damn you._

   What Erwin said hadn’t necessarily been wrong, but there were several things he didn’t know. Farlan and Isabel hadn’t known the risks, because Levi hadn’t told them the plan. They hadn’t known about the leak, that someone they worked with was a traitor. They hadn’t known to watch their backs, and it’d cost them their lives. That had been Levi’s decision, and it had been the wrong one. It was one thing when your decisions lead to your own demise, but it was different when it caused others to die in your place. Erwin couldn’t know what it was like to live with that guilt. Bile rose in Levi’s throat and his eyes burned threateningly. 

He swallowed thickly and took a deep, shaky breath. _All of this, just to get me_ _to work a stupid case._ _Erwin’s got some balls._ Levi shook his head and pushed himself to his feet. His legs and ass were numb after sitting for so long, much to his displeasure. Grumbling, he strode back to his desk and snatched his phone from the floor. He glared down at the cracked screen as if it had personally offended him, and slipped it into his pocket. He needed time to think. 

     

 

    

    

     

    

   

   

    

 

   

   

 

****


	5. Chapter Four

     The gravel crunched loudly under the soles of his boots. The night sky hung like a thick, black blanket, a starless and empty void. The air was humid and thick with the pungent odor of sweat, salt, and the rotted underbelly of the city. A hot wind blew, carrying the harsh scent on its back. Around him the darkened alleyways creaked and moaned. Ghostly pale faces watched him pass. Some instinctively stepped away. Whispers hung on his coattails. If anyone asked they’d say it was strange that a man would willingly wear a large trench coat and wide brimmed hat in the sweltering heat. His wizened, chiseled face was bare, apart from the scraggly beard on his chin. He needn’t worry about covering it, as the men who scuttled in the gutters around him were expendable, and knew the price they’d pay for speaking of the goings on there. 

   He stopped outside an old crooked building. The door, or what was left of it, hung from the rusted hinges. Moss adorned the rotten wood floor in the entryway, as well as the sodden frame around the door and boarded windows. The paint was faded and chipped in several places. There was a large hole in the roof, gapping its maw at the sky above as if crying for mercy that would never come. Trash littered the little patch of grass just to the left of the door. The smell of piss and feces was strongest here as well. If he ventured inside, just past the entry hall to the little room on the left he’d find a bed. It would still carry the scent of death, misery, and sin. The place should have been burned to the ground. His lips curled at the thought.

    A soft, reluctant cough behind him. _At last,_ he thought, turning to the newcomer. He appraised the other man as one would a prized pig. He wore a plain, nondescript coat and, black slacks. Dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail at the nape of his neck. A rag tied around the lower half of his face, covering all but his bespectacled eyes. Those eyes swept over the dilapidated home behind him, before settling on him impassively.

    “Is this the place?” he asked quietly. His voice was hard and cold. Detached. Inhuman. 

    “Yes,” he replied gesturing grandly to the place as if it were a palace. “This, my dear friend, is where you will begin your work.”

    The other man pursed his lips thoughtfully. “If I may ask, why this …” he eyed the building again, “…place,” he finished simply.

   He chuckled and placed his hands deep in his pockets. “History, my friend.” He stepped closer to the other man and reached out to pat him solidly on the shoulder. “After all these years, it feels much better to start over at the beginning, wouldn’t you agree?” 

   “I see,” he responded, stepping away from the touch. His face remained perfectly void of emotion, though something unreadable sparked in his muddy brown eyes. Could it have been disgust? Contempt?

   _How cute._ His lips quirked and parted to reveal two rows of straight, smoke stained teeth. A sinister, chilling smile planted firmly on his face now, he stepped aside and gestured to the building again. “Shall we enter?”

   A stiff nod, and the two men strode up the steps and into the home. The rotted floor groaned under their weight, but held firmly. They trod down the empty hall, stepping over moth eaten clothes, rotted garbage, and used needles. The air was stifling. Their hair stood on end. Their eyes and throats burned. To one it was sickening, to the other it was comforting.

   They stopped just at the little door at the end of the hall. The olive-green paint was peeling. The wood was swollen and held securely in place by a set of shiny locks.

    “Our guests,” the tall man cooed, nodding at the door, “have remained secure, per instructions.”

    The brunette man did not reply, and merely waited until his more theatrical counterpart pushed the key into the lock. It clicked. The door opened with a light shove. Again, they were assaulted by the smell of urine, though this time it was accented with the thick coppery smell of fresh blood.

   “Is she awake?” he asked, peering into the dark room.

    “I’m sure she’s just resting,” he replied.

   “Has she said anything useful?”

   The other man scratched at his chin before answering. “A little, but I’m not quite finished with her yet.” He stepped boldly into the room, hand feeling along the wall for the light switch. A minute later, dull yellow light flooded the room.

   Now that he could properly see, the bespectacled man got his first good look at the room and the woman in it. She was naked and achingly thin, her skin stretched taught over her bones. Her dark auburn hair was matted with blood, tears, and dirt. Her lips were blistered and bleeding. Bruises mottled her pale skin, painting it a cacophony of blacks, blues, and deep purple. Her wrists and ankles were bound tightly and secured to the mildewed floor. But it was her eyes that he studied the longest. They were wide as saucers and filled with terror as she looked him over. The cerulean orbs welled with thick tears. She blinked them away rapidly with her long black lashes, but they returned full force as he continued to stare, uncaring of her predicament. 

    “You didn’t gag her?” he asked finally, turning his eyes to his partner. 

   The other man had stalked over the woman by now, and stood over her with his hands hanging limply at his sides. He faced the brunette man and shrugged. “Her screams are not out of place here,” he replied simply, turning back to the woman. He squatted and reached for the woman. She violently flinched and vainly tried to squirm away from him. He laughed at her struggle and pushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “The others were much louder, especially towards the end.” 

    There was a rustle of fabric, and then the taller man pulled a small blade from his pocket. He rolled it in his palm. The cool metal glinted in the light. The jagged edge rubbed teasingly along his skin, promising to hurt if it so chose to. He continued to palm it even as his eyes roved the woman from head to toe. 

   The woman shivered. A large tear rolled down her grimy, sunken cheeks. She took a rattling breath. Goosebumps rose on her pale flesh. Her lips trembled. Her heart beat against her ribs. Her lungs froze. “P-please,” she croaked brokenly. Cerulean eyes found the man still standing in the doorway. “P-please!” Her throat constricted. Her tongue grew heavy. Her muscles coiled. More tears followed. 

   He stood rigidly in the doorway, unmoving. He frowned at her plea. Why would she plead for her life now? Surely, she understood that bargaining for her life was not an option. Yet he saw a glimmer of hope in her eyes, beseeching him. It flickered and glowed like the embers of a fire, a sample of what could be. _Foolish woman._

“When will the others come to assist you?” the brunette murmured. He never looked away from the woman’s eyes. They were beautiful, even in her fear and pain. 

     “Within the hour I presume,” he said, placing the knife against the woman’s quivering stomach. “Though they don’t participate much in this part.” He sneered nastily at the woman who cowered from him. “I am a selfish man, after all.” 

“Yes well,” he began, pushing his glasses further up his face, “remember our arrangement. I’ll be sure to prepare my materials, and find a suitable dump site.” He turned away and strode from the room without a backwards glance. He ignored the woman’s desperate cries for mercy. it was a fruitless endeavor, and bordering on pathetic. Her screams were not the first, and they would certainly not be the last. 

    

     

  

 


	6. Chapter Five

**_One Month Later_ **

The hall was crowded with people, all chatting excitedly about that night’s championship game. It would be the first time in nearly two decades that the football team qualified for state, a feat that had both the student body and teachers buzzing with excitement. Most, if not all, adorned school colors in some manner. The ones that weren’t carried large banners. The lockers were decorated with forest green streamers and hastily made posters. A few teachers sported the team jerseys. Cheerleaders paraded down the halls, beaming, and dragging anyone they caught to the practice field. 

   Eren would probably be more enthusiastic if he hadn’t been given a detention only fifteen minutes earlier. It hadn’t even been his fault this time. Mostly. He carelessly closed his locker with a snap. He dreaded the lecture he’d get from his dad, and Mikasa too. Both had reached the end of their patience with him, it seemed.

   Grumbling to himself, he made his way through the horde of teenagers to Armin’s and Mikasa’s lockers. A few students pushed into him as they scuttled past, much to his irritation, but there was little to be done about it. When he finally reached them, they were already together, waiting patiently for him. They were leaning casually against the wall of lockers, deep in discussion about an assignment for class. Mikasa noticed him first, and waved him over with a large smile.

   “It’s about time,” she teased, punching him lightly in the shoulder. “What held you up this time?”

  Eren couldn’t answer, his attention solely on Armin and the ridiculous outfit he wore. The boy’s hair was dyed milk white and one half of his face was painted forest green. Instead of his normal button-down shirt and khaki slacks, he wore white jeans and a forest green hoodie with wings plastered across the back. The words SINA HIGH SCOUTS were written in bold white letters on the sleeves.

   He doubled over laughing as he looked him up and down. “Dude what the Hell are you wearing? Please tell me you lost a bet or something.” He reached out and ruffled the blonde’s hair. 

   Armin flushed tomato red and ducked his head. “W-well excuse me for wanting to show school spirit!” he stammered defensively. He swatted Eren’s hand away.

   Eren raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Are you sure it had nothing to do with a certain cheerleader we both know?” he sneered. 

  Mikasa giggled and slung an arm around Armin’s shoulders. “Now Eren, why would you think that?” she quipped, joining in. Although she loved Armin to death and would pummel anyone that bullied him, she wouldn’t pass up a prime opportunity to mercilessly rib him. Sometimes he made it too easy. “I demand evidence!”

    Eren snickered. “Well, I could have sworn I saw Christa pulling him off to the side earlier today…”

   “I also seem to recall Christa _personally_ inviting him to the game,” Mikasa interrupted with a sly grin. 

   “She’s a cheerleader! It’s her job!” Armin squawked indignantly. He struggled to get out of Mikasa’s grasp, to no avail.

   “And she promised to give Armin some TLC if he played dress up for her, right?” Eren pressed, trying vainly to hold back his laughter at the other teen’s expression.

   Armin’s cheeks, neck, and ears were now flushed a dark crimson. “N-no!” he stammered.

  Mikasa beamed triumphantly and wriggled her eyebrows at Eren. “That’s not what _she_ said.” She leaned closer to Armin, her lips barely an inch from his left ear, and murmured oud enough for Eren to hear, “And she told us girls _all_ the kiss. I might have to test it to see if it’s as good as she said.” 

  Eren was doubled over in tears by the time she finished. Armin ducked his head in defeat, mumbling about not being able to depend on anyone in the world. Mikasa let Armin go, snickering. Passersby stared quizzically at the three of them, but no one bothered commenting on their odd behavior. It was normal at this point. 

   “No, but seriously, you look cool,” Eren gasped a minute later. He was clutching his stomach and his body trembled with barely contained laughter.

   Armin narrowed his eyes and glared at the taller teen. “I hate you,” he grumbled irritably.

    Eren rolled his eyes and lightly shoved the boy’s shoulders. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, we better get going before the pep rally starts.”

   The three made their way out of the building onto the football field where the pep rally was being held, Eren ribbing Armin the entire way. The sea of students thinned somewhat, as they all squeezed onto the rickety metal bleachers. They picked their way through the throng of teenagers to the Junior section, carefully avoiding the overcrowded and rowdy freshmen section. 

  Marco spotted them first and waved to them from the top row of the bleachers. “Yo, we’re over here!” he bellowed. A few people looked at him strangely, though most ignored him. It was a pep rally after all. They managed to squeeze their way to their friends with only minor incidents. To Eren’s surprise, they all wore school spirit gear. Jean wore a simple beanie with the word SCOUTS printed on the front; Sasha and Connie wore identical green and white scarves despite the heat; and Marco was wearing a sweater like Armin’s, only it was baggy on his slim frame. If he had to guess, Eren would wager it was Jean’s. 

   “It’s about time you guys got here!” Connie exclaimed, passing Eren and Mikasa forest green blazers with the wing insignia on the back. They slipped them on appreciatively. 

    “Sorry dude, got held up by Coach Stein,” Eren replied grumpily.

    Sasha and Connie fixed him with identical masks of horror. They’d both dealt with Coach Stein on more than one occasion, and knew what a colossal ass he tended to be. “Tough, man,” the shorter teen said solemnly, patting his shoulder. Eren didn’t get an opportunity to reply, as the football team chose that time to make their entrance.

  The stands erupted in a raucous, deafening roar as they came sprinting onto the field. The bleachers rattled under their weight and stamping feet. Students whooped and hollered, calling out their favorite player’s name or number. Eren spotted Reiner with his arm draped casually over Bertolt’s shoulders. They were beaming, enjoying the praise and adoration of their classmates. Next the cheerleaders came out waving their pom-poms and screaming excitedly. Christa was among them, and Eren would claim, completely un-biasedly, that she was the prettiest girl on the field. She waved at them delightedly, a large smile splitting her cherubic like face. Eren grinned wickedly at Armin who pointedly ignored him. The tips of his ears still burned red. He even spotted Annie Leonhart snapping pictures for the yearbook, although she didn’t look nearly as enthusiastic as everyone else. 

    The rest of the pep rally passed in a blur of impromptu speeches and games. The principal had gotten on at some point and gave a dry speech about the football team’s pitiful history, which everyone promptly ignored. The quarterback and other star players took their turns boasting and raving about how they’d destroy the Maria High Titans, which earned them all riotous cheers from the students, Eren included. The teachers and alumni that had shown up bid a tearful goodbye to one of their most beloved faculty members that was retiring. The cheerleaders danced a sassy and highly suggestive number _,_ which had almost all the guys in an over the top hormonal uproar. The look Armin had thrown a freshman that’d mentioned something about Christa was cold enough to freeze Hell over. The student council had them play a few games, and at the very end the players got a chance to try and dunk their coaches in a dunk tank. By the end of it all, Eren was completely engrossed in the hype. They all piled into Jean’s, Armin’s and Sasha’s cars and headed to the game.

* * *

_“_ _And it_ _’_ _s the Scouts with possession folks, 3_ _rd_ _and goal with only_ _one minute_ _left on the clock. If they can make this touchdown or a field goal they will be state champions for the first time in over fifteen_ _years! The pressure is definitely on ladies and gentlemen!_ _”_ the announcer hollered.

   Eren was on the edge of his seat, his hands balled so tightly that his knuckles were white. He watched the offensive line get into position and bit his lip. Their center (Eren really wasn’t sure who he was) snapped the ball and Samuel, the quarterback, threw it to Bertolt. The boy gripped the ball against his chest and made a mad dash for the goal line, only to be tackled by a guy easily twice his size. It didn’t stop there. As Bertolt climbed to his feet, one of the Titans shoved him roughly from behind, causing him to tumble and his helmet to come off. The crowd erupted in fury.

 “What the Hell ref?!?! That bastard fouled him! Throw the damn flag already!” Eren bellowed. He wasn’t the only one hurling insults at the disgruntled referee.

  Jean, for once, was on his side.  “Are you blind asshole?! That was clearly uncalled for! Stop fucking cheating!”

  The spectators for the Scouts booed furiously as the teams lined up again. A hush fell over the stadium, all eyes on the clock. Fifteen seconds. This was going to be it. Either they’d score now and take home the victory, or they’d be stopped and have to go home with their tails between their legs. Eren refused to let the Titans win this one. He’d go on the field himself if he had to. He crossed his fingers, willing Bertolt and Reiner to do whatever was necessary to score.

  The next few seconds seemed to last an eternity. The ball was snapped. Bertolt sprinted into the in-zone beside two of the Titans’ defensive backs. Samuel seemed to dance around the rushing blockers as he looked for an open receiver. His eyes found Bertolt’s at the same time the latter broke away from his defender. The ball went sailing through the air. Bertolt jumped into the air at the same time one of the defensive backs jumped at him. His hands curled around the ball and he hugged it to his chest as his feet touched the turf. The defender slammed into his side and sent him tumbling to the ground. The buzzer sounded. The clock reached zero. The game was over.

    The roar of the crowd was deafening. Everyone in the stands were on their feet howling and screaming in euphoria. Jean thumped Eren on the back, whooping loudly in his ears. Eren pulled him into a tight hug and ruffled his hair. Mikasa, Marco and Sasha were jumping up and down excitedly. Armin and Connie were whistling and chanting Bertolt’s name at the top of their lungs. Christa and the other cheerleaders were flipping down the sidelines and embracing the players. The head coach was on his knees practically bawling into his hands. Dot Pixis, the principal, was on the field accepting the championship trophy.

   Armin gripped his arm tightly, his face split wide in a bright smile. “Come on!” he said excitedly, tugging Eren down towards the fields. The seven of them sliced their way through the crowd, which had spilled onto the field, trying to get to Bertolt. The brunette was in the center of a tight circle, beaming as he held both the championship and MVP trophies. Reiner pulled him into a bear hug. Annie was snapping photos of them rapidly, although she still looked bored. They pressed in around him, yelling their congratulations and patting him on the arm. Bertolt blushed furiously from the attention.

  “Armin!” Christa yelled, appearing out of nowhere. She flung herself into his arms, nearly knocking them both off balance. “We won! We won!” she screamed excitedly. And then, without warning, she smashed her lips against his. Armin’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. After a moment’s hesitation he returned the kiss, his hands wrapping firmly around her waist. Eren and Jean wolf whistled obnoxiously, causing the two to break apart abashedly. Mikasa and Marco cuffed them both on the back of the head, causing everyone around them to burst into fits of laughter.

   “You know, normally the winner gets the kiss,” Jean joked, rubbing at his head. He flinched when Marco raised his hand threateningly. 

   “Well if you insist.” Christa smiled slyly and quickly pecked Bertolt on the cheek. She returned to Armin’s side and slipped her hand into his. The blonde boy’s face was puce, and it looked as if he’d stopped breathing.

    “Come on guys, let’s celebrate!” Connie said excitedly. He threaded his arm through Sasha’s. 

    “Yeah! We can hit up Fuse Night Club!” Sasha added enthusiastically. “They have great food too!” she practically moaned.

   Eren rolled his eyes at her, chuckling. “I’m down if everyone else is. I’ll ride with Connie if that’s all right.” He smirked playfully at Armin. “I would ride with Armin, but I think he and Christa are going to take a more scenic route.”

  Armin blushed furiously and opened his mouth to retort, but Jean beat him to it. “Aw, jealous Jaeger?” he teased.

  Eren felt his ears heat up. “As if!” he squawked indignantly. The others chuckled as the two began to bicker and started making their way towards the cars.

  Marco turned to Bertolt, Reiner, and Annie. “You guys joining us?” he asked. “This is your celebration after all.”

 “Yeah,” Eren added. He reluctantly glanced at Reiner, but decided against antagonizing him. He could be civil for a few hours. “I bet Jean and I could drink you guys under the table.”

  “You think so huh?” Bertolt laughed. “I’d love to take you up on that, but Reiner and I have  things to do. Annie could probably use the company though.” 

  She threw him an icy glare, but agreed. “Whatever,” she shrugged. “I’m not drinking though.” 

  “Cool, let’s go then. You can ride with Connie, Sasha, and Eren,” Marco beamed. He grabbed her wrist and dragged her and Jean away. Eren followed, snickering all the way.

* * *

 

 “Why so serious doll?” Annie turned to face the man beside her. He was pale with greasy black hair slicked back in a ponytail. His dark brown eyes were clouded over with alcohol as he leered at her. “How about I buy you a drink? It might help you relax.”

   Annie wrinkled her nose at him. “I don’t drink.” she said stiffly. She twisted in her seat away from him and stared into the writhing mass of bodies on the dance floor.

  The man wasn’t easily swayed, however. He chuckled and grabbed a lock of her hair, twirling it around his finger as he leaned in closer. His hot breath wafted over her face, only pissing her off more. “In that case, maybe _I_ could help you relax.”

   Her fist connected with his cheek sharply, sending him crashing to the floor. She hopped off the bar stool and tucked her hair behind her ear. “And I don’t like to be touched.” She turned on her heel and stalked off to the far side of the bar where it was less crowded. The bartender quirked an eyebrow at her, gesturing to the glass in his hands. “Water,” she said dryly. He rolled his eyes and slid a bottle to her before turning away to another customer.

   Annie sipped at it, watching the others out of sheer boredom. Armin and Christa were shyly dancing with one another, both faces beet red yet cheerful. Sasha was sitting at one of the booths chatting away excitedly with some of the cheerleaders and football players that’d snuck in with them, stuffing her face with food. Several of them looked uncomfortable, but they didn’t move to leave. Connie was doing something that could be considered dancing, but to Annie he looked like he was having a seizure. Jean was practically the same: no rhythm and arms flailing wildly around him. Mikasa was leaning against the far wall, nursing the same rum and coke mix she’d had for an hour, her eyes glued to the center of the dance floor. Annie followed her line of sight, already knowing who she’d be staring at. There was only one person that could hold the other girl’s attention so raptly.

   Eren was at the very center of the mass of sweaty, gyrating bodies dancing with a random teen from their school. His hips swayed seductively to the music, his arms resting lightly on the taller teen’s shoulders. They were pressed close together, chest to groin, barely a breath away from one another. The guy held Eren’s hips as they danced, his eyes fixated on him. Every so often, his hands would slide up Eren’s back and tangle in his messy brown hair. Once or twice he leaned in to steal a kiss, only for Eren to coyly turn his face. It was strangely erotic to watch Eren tease the poor boy, not that Annie would ever admit it. 

  “He’s something, isn’t he?” Marco said suddenly, plopping down beside her. There was a faint tint to his cheeks, making his freckles stand out more prominently, and the sweet smell of liquor on his breath. She quirked her eye at him, waiting for him to elaborate. He chuckled and sipped at his drink. “Eren. He’s got that kid eating out of the palm of his hands.”

   She turned back to watch Eren as the next song began, grudgingly agreeing with Marco. Under the vibrant lights, his teal eyes seemed to glow, almost inhumanely. They pulsed to the rhythm and his body began swaying to the new beat. Sweat glistened on his tanned skin and his dark hair hung onto his forehead. He ground his hips into his partner’s, eliciting what Annie assumed was a groan. The smug smirk playing on his lips was unmistakable, and a second later he pulled away. His partner gapped after him before collecting himself and moving on.

 Eren wiped at his face and casually made his way over to them. He ordered a drink and sat on Annie’s other side. He took a long drink before nudging her shoulder. “Why the long face? Not enjoying yourself or what?” 

   Annie blinked at him and shrugged. “I don’t party. It’s not my thing.”

  He nodded and took another sip of his drink. “Sorry I kind of dragged you along.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, suddenly feeling awkward. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Annie. Simply that he didn’t know her too well. He wasn’t even sure why she’d come if she didn’t want to come. She could have just said no. When she didn’t respond, he pressed on. “How about I buy you a drink to make up for it?” he offered.

  She sighed and shook her head. “I don’t drink Eren.” He nodded again but didn’t say anything else, for which she was grateful. She really didn’t want to talk to him. He made her uncomfortable. 

  Eren quickly downed the rest of his drink and ordered another, finishing that one off almost as quickly. After a few minutes passed by Jean came stumbling over, half-drunk off his ass.

  Marco caught him and carefully deposited him onto one of the bar stools. “Damn Jean, how much have you drank?” he asked worriedly.

  Jean grinned stupidly up at him. “The same amount as Jaeger, only I’m not as far gone as he is.” He flagged down the bartender to try and get his attention.

  Eren glared at him around Annie, eyes narrowed. “I’m fine horse face. You look like you’re about to pass out.”  

 He snorted and leaned back against the bar. “Jaeger, I can drink you under the table any day.”

   “Guys wait-” Marco began, trying to stop them from getting ahead of themselves. If left to their own devices, the two would drink themselves into oblivion and probably hurt themselves.

  “Bet you fifty bucks you can’t,” Eren challenged, bringing his fist down on the bar.

    “Eren seriously-” the freckle faced teen tried again.

 “Bet you a hundred I can,” Jean interrupted belligerently.

    “Jean, no-” he pleaded. 

 “Fine! Bring it on!” Both teens shook hands, ignoring Marco’s protests.

   Annie rolled her eyes. “How childish can you be?” she mumbled, looking away. She felt only mild sympathy for Marco, having to deal with the two idiots. If it were her, she’d let them drink until they vomited. It’d teach them a lesson, at least. 

  Marco groaned at the two and shook his head. “Let me get Armin and Mikasa before these two hurt themselves.” He disappeared into the crowd, leaving Annie to watch the two idiots beside her attempt to give themselves alcohol poisoning.  They continued to fling insults at one another, although half of them didn’t make any sense. The bartender was highly amused as he poured their shots, if the smirk on his face was anything to go by.

  “Are you seriously just going to let them drink like that?” Annie asked him icily. She watched Eren slosh half his drink down his front and Jean laugh hysterically at him.

   The bartender shrugged and poured Jean another shot. “They can drink as long as they can pay sweetheart. Not my problem otherwise.” He handed Eren a napkin, which the brunette stared at in confusion before picking it up and dabbing at his shirt.

  “Bastard,” she mumbled, turning away just as Mikasa came into view. The girl made a beeline for them, her eyes glaring daggers into the back of Eren’s skull. Annie took that as her cue to leave. She’d rather not be witness to another epic Jaeger-Ackerman showdown. She hopped off her bar stool and made her way towards Connie and Sasha instead.

  “Eren Matsuda Jaeger, what the hell are you doing?!” Mikasa demanded when she reached them. She looked between the two drunken teens angrily, hands on her hips. When Marco had found her and explained the situation, she’d hoped he’d been exaggerating. Seeing them both now, however, she knew that was not the case. 

  Eren wheeled around and blinked at her in confusion. “Mikasa what are you doing?” he asked, throwing back another shot. He looked the girl over from head to toe, trying to place her anger. Her nostrils were flared and her eyes glinted murderously. Why was she upset?

   “You’ve had enough. If you keep this up you’re going to end up in the hospital.” Her brows furrowed and she waved away the bartender when he tried pouring another shot. Eren frowned at her.

  “Mikasa I’m fine,” he slurred. “I’ve just had a few drinks, nothing major. Take a chill pill, will you? Can’t a guy have some fun without you butting in and ruining it?”

   Mikasa pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled sharply. “Eren, you’re drunk. I’m not having this argument with you.” When he continued to stare at her stupidly, she rolled her eyes and reached for his arm. “Let’s go; I’m taking you home.” He jerked away.

  “Would you just stop it already?! I’m not some little kid you can boss around Mikasa!” he shouted. Armin, who’d just meandered over with Christa, stopped in his tracks. His eyes swiveled between his two friends frantically, assessing the situation.

   “Whoa guys, let’s calm down, yeah?” He placed a tentative hand on Eren’s shoulder. “Mikasa’s right, Eren. You’ve had too much. Let her-”

  Eren growled and brusquely shook him off. “You try dealing with her!” he snapped irritably. Her eyes widened at his tone, but he ignored her hurt look. “It’s _so_ annoying! God, you follow me around everywhere like some fucking hawk, telling me what to do like you’re my mother or something!” he spat, standing shakily to his feet. “You’re not my mother, so stop pretending to be! Back off!” 

   Her mouth dropped open, as did Armin’s, Marco’s, and Jean’s. A few people around them stopped their conversations to listen in, craning their necks to get a good look at them. The bartender had even paused on his way to another patron. Mikasa exhaled slowly and dropped her head. When she looked back up they were moist with unshed tears. Her bottom lip trembled slightly and she took a step back from him. The sight sent a knife into Eren’s gut, the guilt sobering him quickly. “Mikasa, I-”

  She turned and briskly walked away, leaving him standing there like a fool. He felt like an ass. He ran a hand through his hair and banged his fist against the counter. _Good going Eren,_ he thought fiercely. He hadn’t meant to make her cry. He’d never do that to her. They’d been together since they were children, and had always had each other’s backs. There wasn’t a day that went by that they weren’t together getting into trouble in one way or another. He depended on her just as much as she depended on him. Hurting Mikasa was the last thing he’d ever want to do.

   “I’m going to find Mikasa and apologize.” He started away from them, only for Armin to catch his elbow.

  The blonde looked him hard in the eyes. “Are you sure you can handle that without losing your temper again?” he asked through gritted teeth. Eren was taken aback slightly. Armin was the level headed one, not quick to anger like everyone else. The fact that rage swam in his eyes meant that he felt Eren had screwed up big time. “Don’t go if you’re going to make things worse.”

  He nodded and gently pulled his arm away. “I promise it won’t happen again.” Eren turned and made a beeline for the door. He ducked outside and looked around, hoping to spot her walking. The street was empty except for a few people from the bar. “Dammit.” He began walking up the street, looking down the alleys hoping to spot her. Every street he looked down was empty.  After almost ten minutes he turned and started jogging back towards the club.

   Eren paused to catch his breath, leaning against one of the buildings. _Damn. Mikasa_ _’_ _s going to kick my ass tomorrow,_ he thought, running a hand down his face. He pulled out his cellphone and sent her a quick text before shoving it back in his pocket. He straightened and started walking, only to stop when he heard a crash coming from the alley.

  “Mikasa?” Eren whispered. He cautiously stepped into the alleyway. It was darker than he’d expected originally, and there wasn’t any sign of whoever made the noise. He wrinkled his nose at the heavy aroma of alcohol, sewage, and garbage and continued down the alley. His footsteps echoed faintly off the walls, but apart from that it was eerily silent. “Mikasa?” he tried again slightly louder. No answer.

    Sighing, he turned to leave only to stumble and fall. He threw his hands out to catch himself which, in hindsight, was almost as stupid as coming into an alley at night while intoxicated. Glass, most likely from broken beer bottles, cut into his palms and knees. He cursed and cradled his cut hand to his chest, sitting back on his heels. _Damn. How am I going to explain this to dad?_

   Eren pushed himself to his feet and glanced back to see what tripped him in the first place. His eyes landed on a pair of legs sticking out from behind two dumpsters and the breath caught in his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck prickled and his palms became sweaty. When asked later why he didn’t turn and run at that moment, he’d blame it purely on the alcohol coursing through his system. In all reality, however, it was something completely unexplainable that compelled him to take out his phone and flip on the flashlight. Heart thudding in his chest, he bent over the body and shined the light on its face. It was a man, probably a little younger than his dad with sandy blonde hair matted with blood and unseeing caramel eyes. The eyes of a dead man. Blood dribbled from the gapping cut in his throat, dripping onto the concrete, and his chest. Eren leant closer before jerking back as if he’d been electrocuted, his eyes widening at the mottled mess.

_Oh, dear God!_ He needed to call the police; no, he needed to call his father. Grisha would know what to do. Fingers trembling, he dialed the man’s number and started backing away, eyes glued to the dead man before him.

 Grisha answered on the third ring. “Eren? What is it; I’m handling important business right now at the office.”

   Eren leaned back against the wall, his head swimming. “Dad I found a body. I was out with friends celebrating our win and-” He drew in a shaky breath. “The rest isn’t important. I-It’s in the alley about a block from club Fuse.”

   “What? Eren, if this is a joke-” Grisha warned testily. 

     “Dad I’m serious!” Eren interrupted, voice breaking. He refused to look down at the body, but he could feel the lifeless eyes boring into him. “It-it’s a man. Dad he’s dead!” 

“Eren, get back to your friends and stay there. Do not touch anything. Do you understand me?” Grisha demanded.

  “Y-yeah. I’ll see you dad.” He hung up and hastened to leave. He hadn’t taken more than two steps when his face suddenly collided with the brick wall and his arm was twisted behind his back.

   “Well now, you aren’t leaving so soon, are you boy?”


	7. Chapter Six

  The left side of his face stung where the brick tore into his skin. The grip on his forearm was like steel, unforgiving and agonizingly tight. His front was pressed tightly against the brick wall, and he could feel the man’s weight against his back. Eren gasped involuntarily at the pain and twisted in the man’s grasp, trying to dislodge him. 

  “Now that won’t do,” the man whispered. He reached up and closed his hand around Eren’s throat, squeezing threateningly. “Behave yourself,” he ordered. The man’s hot breath washed over Eren, sending chills and goose bumps up his spine. He stilled, however, mindful of the hand at his throat. The man chuckled darkly at his compliance. “Such a good boy,” he cooed. “It’s unfortunate that I have to do this kid; I don’t take the pleasure in killing children.”

 It took Eren a moment to process the chilling words. The man’s voice hadn’t wavered when he’d spoken, and contrary to his words, he’d sounded amused. He felt his body go numb as the cold realization of the situation settled into his gut. _Oh God, I’m going to die! I’m going to die!_ Eren squeezed his eyes shut against the stinging tears and bit his bottom lip. He refused to cry, to give in to despair _. If I’m going to die I’m going out with my dignity. I’m going down fighting!_ His resolve didn’t stop the fear coursing through his veins or his quaking knees. The person holding him was easily taller and stronger than him. Eren couldn’t be certain if he had weapons, but chances were that he did. Pleading wouldn’t do him much good either, especially if the man was already apologizing for having to kill him. If he was going to survive this, he’d have to move fast and precise. He hadn’t realized the man had been speaking until he felt himself being tugged back and the hand disappear from his neck.

 “- and come with me quietly okay? I don’t want to hurt you unnecessarily.” He stepped back slightly, giving Eren the opening he needed. Without hesitation, Eren swung his free elbow towards the man’s head while simultaneously kicking backwards at his groin. He missed his tender regions, but his elbow collided with the side of the taller man’s face, sending a jolt of pain through his lower arm. The man grunted and his grip loosened enough for Eren to twist away. He ran for the main street without preamble, desperate to put distance between himself and the madman.

  He didn’t get far. The man had recovered quickly and bore down on him before he reached the safety of the street. A hand reached out and grabbed him by his hair, nails scraping and biting into his scalp. Eren cried out as his neck was wrenched back and he was tossed to the ground. His head bounced off the cement with a loud crack, and sharp hot pain flared in his right shoulder. His vision blurred and his ears rang shrilly, but he had little time to dwell on that before the man’s boot slammed into his abdomen. Eren couldn’t name the sound that spilled from his lips at that moment, namely because another swift kick followed the first. He only knew that it sounded inhuman, and desperate. He grunted and tried to curl in on himself to protect his stomach and chest as the assault continued. 

  The man reached down suddenly and jerked Eren to his feet by his collar. “Let’s try this again, shall we?” he snarled. Eren flailed, unable to find his footing as the man began dragging him deeper into the alley. It took him a second to gather his wits, the throbbing in his shoulder almost unbearable. He drew in a shaky breath before opening his mouth and screaming as loud as he could. Without warning, his head collided with the brick wall. Black spots danced in front of his eyes and nausea rolled through his stomach. Something hot and sticky dribbled down the back of his neck. 

“You want to do this the hard way you little shit?” the man growled, wrapping his hand around Eren’s throat and slamming him against the wall again. “Fine, we’ll do this the hard way.” A second later his fist collided with Eren’s cheek. His head snapped to the side and his vision swam again. The man’s knee slammed into his abdomen, and Eren was certain he heard something crack. He wheezed as he doubled over, sinking to his knees and coughing. Blood filled his mouth and throat. His nose was bleeding profusely. Every breath was agonizing and labored. _No, dear God no_ , he thought as he weakly tried to crawl away.

  The man said something unintelligible, before grabbing his ankle in a death grip and dragging him back. Eren struggled pathetically, his limbs heavy and weakened from the abuse and alcohol. The psycho flipped him over onto his back and straddled his chest. “I lied before. I’m going to thoroughly enjoy watching the life fade from those pretty teal eyes.” Eren spat in his face. To Eren’s bone chilling horror, the man’s bloodied face split into a manic smile, displaying two rows of white teeth. It made Eren’s skin crawl. He wrapped both hands tightly around Eren’s throat and began to squeeze. His thumbs pressed firmly into the hollow of his throat as he choked him, threatening to crush the bones there. Fear seized Eren in that moment, and he began to thrash violently. He bucked his hips to try and force the man off, and scratched out with his good hand.

  The man laughed darkly at his struggles and leaned down until their noses touched. “That’s right, keep fighting. It makes this much more fun.”

  He emphasized this by tightening his grip just a little. By this time, Eren’s lungs were burning and he could feel himself fading fast. Blackness danced at the edge of his vision. The man continued to taunt and jeer at him as he strangled the life out of him. He would let go for a second, allowing Eren to draw in a small breath before resuming his ministrations. His piercing gray eyes held Eren’s, watching the life gradually fade from the boy’s eyes.

 The pressure around his neck suddenly disappeared, as did the weight on his chest. Eren’s ears rang shrilly, and he could hear sirens in the distance. His limbs felt like lead. Numbness lay over him like a thick, woolen blanket. His throat was far too tight. His lungs quivered. He felt his eyes flutter and he fought desperately to keep them open. He heard footsteps quickly approaching and he felt a stray tear fall from his eye as he gave in and let them close.

* * *

 

Armin drummed his fingers on the bar top, eyes glued to the club doors.  _Eren’s been gone an awfully long time_ , he though as he sipped at his soda. _Mikasa still hasn’t returned either._ He frowned and continued to tap his fingers incessantly against the counter. It had been almost twenty minutes since Eren had left to chase after Mikasa, and neither had reappeared or texted in the time since. Had they start fighting again? That was very likely the case considering how stubborn his best friends were. Yet, that didn’t feel right. He couldn’t explain why, but their absence bothered him.

 “Lighten up Armin; I’m sure Jaeger is fine. He’s probably getting his ass kicked by Mikasa as we speak.” Jean said as he drank his water. He made a sour face at the glass as if it had personally offended him and glanced longingly at the other patrons’ alcohol. Marco had officially cut him off after Eren had left, declaring that if he had one more drop he wouldn’t be allowed to spend the weekend with him. It went without saying that Jean consented, although unwillingly.

  Armin shook his head. “Something just doesn’t feel right Jean. I can’t explain it.” He ignored the skeptical look thrown his way and continued to watch for his best friends. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and he had goose bumps on his arms despite the heat inside the club. His gut was knotting and churning with unease. 

  Sasha, Christa, Connie, and Annie came over then, looking exhausted. Connie yawned and stretched. “Man, they aren’t back yet? Should we go looking for them?”

 Sasha nodded and rubbed her eye. “Yeah it’s been a while since they left. One of them should have been back by now at least.”

  “Let me try calling them first,” the blonde-haired teen mumbled. Armin pulled out his cellphone and dialed Mikasa’s number. It rang twice and then went to voicemail. He tried Eren’s and it rang twice as long before going to voicemail. He frowned at his phone, worry prickling at him. “I think some of us should go and some should stay just in case they come back.” He hopped off the barstool and downed the last of his soda. “Christa, you and Annie come with me. Connie, you and Sasha should stay here.” He glanced at Jean, taking in his inebriated state. “Marco, you should take Jean home.”

   The freckle faced teen frowned. “Are you sure Armin? If something’s happened-”

   Armin waved him off. “I’m sure they’re fine,” he interrupted, wincing at the sharp edge to his own voice. “Besides, Jean won’t be much help as intoxicated as he is.”

 Marco reluctantly agreed, and proceeded to drag Jean away. They pulled on their sweaters and began making their way to the door. Armin could feel eyes on them and looked around, his eyes landing on the bartender. The man had stopped working and watching them leave, or more specifically, Annie. He glared at the man until he averted his gaze. That sent off tiny bells in Armin’s head, but he couldn’t place them. Something about the way he was watching her seemed off. It wasn’t the usual predatory, perverted stare, but a detached, cold stare. It was almost as if he was studying her, like a parent does an unruly child. Why he got that feeling, he didn’t know, but he didn’t have time to think about it when Mikasa stepped in front of them.

  Her eyes were slightly puffy and there were dried tear streaks on her cheeks. She sniffed and ran a hand through her shoulder length hair. “Are we leaving?” she asked quietly, dejectedly.

“We were about to try and find you and Eren.” Christa said with a sweet smile. 

 Mikasa raised an eyebrow. “Eren isn’t with you?” She looked over at the bar as if she’d find him sitting there moping.

 The bells in Armin’s head rang louder than ever. “He went to find you to apologize. You haven’t seen him?”

 She shook her head, the worry evident in her eyes. She quickly wheeled around to dash out the door, nearly running head first into Eren’s father, Grisha Jaeger.

“Grisha? What are you doing here?” Mikasa asked, voice trembling. The man gripped her shoulders firmly and bent until they were eye level.

“Mikasa, where is Eren?” he asked sternly, eyes boring into the girl’s.

 She shook her head as if in a trance. “I don’t know.” Her voice sounded small, as if she were falling. Armin wanted to reach out and comfort her, but there were more pressing matters.

“Mr. Jaeger,” he started, getting the man’s attention. “Eren left about twenty minutes ago looking for Mikasa. We were just about to go looking for him. Did he call you? Is he in trouble?”

 Grisha frowned, his forehead creasing. He looked deeply troubled, and that did not help quiet Armin’s worry. “Listen to me: all of you kids need to get home right away. The police are on their way as we speak. We’ll find Eren. When you get home, you are to stay there. Is that understood?”

That seemed to snap Mikasa out of her trance. Her eyes blazed with fury and she stepped out of Grisha’s grasp angrily. “I’m not leaving without Eren.” Before the man could react, she brushed past him and ran out the door.

 “Mikasa wait!” Armin called, rushing after the girl. Christa and Annie followed close behind. He could hear Grisha calling for them to stop, to go home, but they ignored him. 

Up ahead, Mikasa was desperately screaming out Eren’s name, never slowing. The street was deserted as she raced down it; ears open for any sign of Eren as her eyes frantically checked the side streets and store fronts. She could hear her friends pursuing, but it didn’t matter. Eren had gone looking for her and had yet to return. Grisha had said that Eren was in trouble and that the police were on their way. Her gut twisted uncomfortably. If Eren was hurt, it’d be all her fault. She wouldn’t be able to live with herself if something had happened to him.

  That’s when she heard it. Mikasa knew that no matter how old she became, she would never be able to forget the sound of Eren’s cry. It was altogether different than any sound the boy had ever made, even when he’d broken his arm when they’d been kids. It was a ragged whimper, a sharp inhale of breath, and a choked sob wrenched painfully from his chest. It stabbed at her, and made her stop in the mouth of the alley. 

“Eren!” she’d screamed as she ran to him. He moaned softly in response, but said nothing else. She dropped to her knees and pulled his head onto her lap. “Eren hold on, help is on the way! Stay with me. Stay with me Eren!” her voice broke and tears began flowing freely as she looked him over.

His hair was wet with blood, as was his nose and mouth. Already she could see bruises forming on his jaw. His hands and knees were bleeding as well, as if he’d been cut. He was too pale, too still, too quiet. He was broken in her arms, and it made her sob harder. His eyes fluttered and she stroked his hair and face. She could hear the police and paramedics arriving, could hear Armin and Grisha calling out to her. In that moment, she could care less. She was not letting go.

“I’m so sorry Mikasa.” His eyes fluttered again and his head lolled to the side as he struggled to remain conscious.

Mikasa shook her head and sobbed. Of course, the idiot was thinking about her instead of himself. Why was she surprised? “You’re an absolute idiot Eren! You suicidal bastard! Moron! I-I-” she faltered at his weak laughter. She brushed the hair from his forehead and placed a kiss to his forehead. His breath hitched, and then he went limp.

* * *

 

“Mikasa, you can go in and see him now. He’s resting and the doctor said he probably won’t wake for some time.” Grisha’s voice was soft, tender, and warm. It settled around her, comforted her worn body.

 Mikasa took a shuddering breath and opened her eyes. She wiped impatiently at the fresh tears on her face. She gazed up at the man and felt the tears threatening yet again. Grisha was not a man that displayed his feelings easily, often opting to pretend they didn’t exist entirely. Now, as she looked at him, Mikasa could see clearly the man that Grisha Jaeger was. His face had aged in the short time they’d been in the hospital. Tired wrinkles lined his mouth and forehead, and he had dark circles under his eyes. His mouth was pulled down in a permanent frown, a frown that could not be described in mere words. His eyes were swimming with distress, concern, pain, and grief. They spoke volumes. At that moment he was lost. This was clearly hurting him in ways Mikasa could not imagine.

 He gently placed his hand on her hair and smiled sadly. It looked more like a grimace, but she’d give him points for trying. “I know I don’t have to ask, but please watch over my son while I’m gone.” She nodded and he pressed on. “Don’t blame yourself for what happened to him. Eren was at the wrong place, wrong time and it is as simple as that. You can’t change what happened, nor can I. Right now, just be there for him the way only you can.” He left without another word.

 Mikasa walked into Eren’s hospital room shakily. It wasn’t right seeing him there, not at all. The wires and tubes in his tan skin didn’t belong. The bandage wrapped around his chestnut brown hair shouldn’t have been there. The various scrapes and cuts on his body were foreign. The bruises around his neck should never have existed. She dropped into the seat beside his bed and gently took his hand. She brought it slowly to her mouth and kissed each knuckle, thanking the heavens for their warmth. Two hours ago they’d been nearly frozen, lifeless.   


She buried her face in her hands and swallowed back tears. Eren had nearly _died._ The reality of it was heavier than she’d expected. She’d almost lost her best friend, and for what? She wrung her hands together and stared down at the unconscious boy. “I almost lost you,” she murmured softly. She brushed a hand gently down his face. “I love you, Eren,” she whispered.

  Yes, to a certain extent she did, but he knew that already. The love she had for him was something that could never be manifested into a simple relationship. It was not something that could be branded or something that could have a label. It was just love: pure, unadulterated love. He knew it and she knew it. It didn’t need to be said, not then.

  Eren groaned then, and she instantly perked up, leaning over him. After a tense minute, he mumbled something she couldn’t catch and slowly peeled his eyelids back. As hazy as they were, his teal eyes were still the most gorgeous she’d ever seen. He grinned goofily and she tearfully returned it. 


End file.
